


Unknown

by DJBunn3



Series: Unknown [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Blackmail, Chatting & Messaging, Crushes, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Fights, Hunk (Voltron) Has Two Moms, Invasion of Privacy, Jealousy, Klance Big Bang 2017, Lies, Love Confessions, Love Triangles, M/M, Manipulation, Misunderstandings, Multi, Pining Keith (Voltron), Rehabilitation, Secret Admirer, Secret Messages, Secrets, Self-Denial, Slow Burn, Socially Awkward Keith (Voltron), Stargazing, Suicide Attempt, Teen Pregnancy, Trans Female Pidge | Katie Holt, Twelfth Night - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-01-29 01:07:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 82,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12619660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DJBunn3/pseuds/DJBunn3
Summary: It’s been a few months since Keith’s dad remarried, leaving Keith at a new school with no friends, no mom, and no hope. The only thing that keeps him from going completely insane is Lance Fuentes, the charming, funny, and surprisingly intimidating boy that Keith’s been admiring (read: pining after) from afar since day one.After a bad day leaves Lance miserable and embarrassed, Keith takes a chance and uses the Garrison’s school messenger system to comfort him as an anonymous admirer named Unknown. What was supposed to be a one-sided message of hope turns into the strangest friendship in the school, and soon Keith finds himself closer to Lance then he’d ever dreamed he would be. But keeping a secret this big is hard--especially when a few chance encounters lead him to become friends with Lance in real life as well.Unable to explain to Lance that he’s Unknown, and equally unable to fade away as he’d first intended, Keith soon finds himself trapped in a web of secrets and lies. As he becomes desperate to keep his identity from being discovered, Lance becomes just as desperate to find out who Unknown really is. The question is, just how far are they willing to go?





	1. Keith

“Hey, it’s you!”

Keith looks up from his book, closing it with a soft thud at the sight of the short girl in front of him. “Oh. Hey, Pidge.”

“Keith, right?” Pidge asks, setting a few books down on the counter. Among them Keith spots a book on astrophysiology, two on the history of America, and _The Giver._ “I didn’t know you volunteered here.”

Keith reaches for the books, sliding them across the counter towards the old, usually broken scanner. “It’s good for my resume,” he explains with a shrug, grabbing the first book on the stack. “What brings you here?”

“Modern World History,” Pidge says. “Mr. Coran is fun and all, but kind of hard to learn from, you know? He jumps around a lot during lectures. I want to get a jump on the next quarter so I can tell what’s happening.”

“Yeah.” Keith scans the barcodes across the red light one by one, sometimes repeating them if he doesn’t hear a beep, and looking up occasionally to check the computer screen. Pidge doesn’t seem to care much about his short answers, which is both nice and a little disheartening. Although they barely interact, she’s the closest thing he’s got to a friend at school.

“I’ve seen you in my class, now that I think about it. You’re in fifth period, right?”

“I think so,” he says, not bothering to look up.

“With me and Lance. You know, Lance Fuentes? Tall and flirty? He’s got like, brown hair, and he’s always talking in class.”

Keith nods robotically, staring a hole into the book he has a hold of. Of course he knows who Lance is. How could anyone _not_ know about Lance? He’s _loud_ , but moreover, he’s funny and charismatic, popular in that easy-to-talk-to way that doesn’t quite buy him a place in the royal courtroom of the Garrison, but doesn’t cast him into the streets either. Lance Fuentes, annoyingly, imperfectly perfect, with a perfect smile and a perfect personality, and perfect friends like Pidge Gunderson-Holt, who’s staring at him weirdly.

He nods again, aware that he’s acting more than a little bit strange. “Yeah, we’re in the same class,” he says finally, turning his attention back to the books.

“You should come sit with us sometime. I know you don’t really like human interaction, but it might be a good change, and I’m sure Lance wouldn’t mind. I’d ask him, but he’s kind of in a bad mood right now.”

Is he here? Keith finds himself glancing around the library with bitten back hope (both that he is here and that he isn’t). He can see Hunk--Lance’s best friend as far as he can tell--poking around the History section, but aside from that there are hardly any familiar faces. Pidge seems to catch his train of thought, because she shakes her head with a sympathetic expression on her face.

“He’s holed up at home. Something embarrassing happened at school earlier, so he’s kinda just sulking on his own right now.” She sighs, shaking her head in exasperation. “Honestly, he’s such a drama queen. I keep telling him it’s not that big of a deal, but he’s acting like it’s the end of the world.”

That explains why he’d looked so upset during Geometry. Poor guy. Keith shakes his head as if he’s agreeing with Pidge, handing her books back with the pink return receipt stuck into the pages of the top one. “Due date’s in two weeks.”

“Thanks,” she says, voice muffled behind the giant stack of books. (He’d offer her a bag, but she seems to be doing alright on her own.) When it’s clear that he’s not going to say anything else, she turns away and starts heading back towards Hunk. She hasn’t gotten more than a few feet away before she stops and turns around again. “You know, Keith, you really should come have lunch with us someday. Like I said, I know you’re not really a social butterfly, but Hunk and Lance are easy to be friends with, and you already know me.”

“I’ll think about it,” Keith lies. Yeah, like he’d ever even consider something like that. As much as his dad and stepmom are pushing him to join clubs and be social, he can’t bring himself to talk to any of the kids in his classes. Most are complete idiots--not school smart, street smart, or capable of the simplest logic--and the ones who aren’t are either complete jerks or surprisingly intimidating.

Okay, more specifically, _Lance_ is intimidating. As easygoing as he seems, it still feels like an impossible task to walk up and say _hi_. Keith’s never really gotten as far as trying, but he can imagine how hard it would be.

Lance is in four of Keith’s classes this semester and had been in five the one before, which has given Keith plenty of time to observe him and his friends. Pidge is a lot like Keith, and she always says hi when they’re in close enough proximity; Hunk is sweet and funny, but they’ve never exchanged more than a few words at a time; and Lance is…

Pidge squints at him for a second, like she doesn’t quite believe him. “You should,” she says finally, slowly, before turning back to Hunk. “Anyway, I’ll see you later.”

“Later,” Keith echoes to her turned back as she walks away. He sighs, fanning the pages of the book he’d been reading to get some dust out from between the pages. (The library doesn’t get much use, as far as he can tell, and _Please Don’t Kill the Freshman_ isn’t exactly a popular read.)

Poor Lance. Whatever happened to him must have been something pretty big, if his mood in Geometry had been anything to go by. He’s usually a pretty optimistic person, and although he does complain and sulk quite often, it’s never really… well, it’s never serious. He always puts a playful spin on his negative emotions, so it had been weird to see him genuinely upset.

Keith has never spoken to Lance, but he’s been paying attention to him practically since the beginning of the year. Ever since the first week of school, Lance has captured his attention. He’d seemed annoying at first, but over time Keith had found himself smiling at Lance’s bad jokes and paying more attention to him when they were in the same room. He’s thought about reaching out-- _would_ reach out, if he were still back at his old school. But now?

The Garrison is… Well, it’s _something_. It’s a lot bigger than Galra Polytechnic was, with more students, more clubs and teams, and bigger classes. The staff and teachers aren’t exactly friendly, save for a few of the younger or quirkier ones, and the students tend to lean towards the surlier side of teenagedom for the most part. It’s not what Keith had hoped for, but it’s better than he’d expected. Sometimes. Still, it’s been hard to fit in, especially because everybody already seems to know each other. Nobody’s exactly looking for new friends.

Keith closes his book gently, setting it into his bag, and pulls out his phone instead. He’s got a few texts from his dad, an email from one of his friends at Galra Polytechnic, some Instagram notifications (not that he ever goes on there, anyway) and a message on the Garrison’s school system messenger.

The Garrison has its own messaging system, kind of a mashup of Skype and Gmail, and each of the Garrison’s students has a profile until they graduate. It’s supposed to be for group projects or for reaching other students who don’t give their numbers out, but most people just use it for its group chat feature. Keith has never, not even once, gotten a message on it.

He slides it open, inputs his school password, and taps on the text. There are two unread messages from Auxia which he quickly opens.

_3:56 pm_

_Acxa: Keith, do you want to go to a party with me this weekend?_

_Acxa: My friend is hosting and she said I could bring my brother._

Keith frowns. He’s still not used to being someone’s brother. Auxia--or Acxa, as she prefers--is nice and smart, and about as far from intrusive as someone can be, but they’re not blood related. She’s a senior, about half a year away from graduating, so when her mom and Keith’s dad had gotten married, they’d decided to move into the Cadbury residence so she could finish high school in the same place.

Of course, that decision had caused essentially all of Keith’s current problems, but he’s not about to go and complain. Sarah makes his dad happy, and that’s what’s important.

He starts typing out a response, only to delete it and start over again.

_4:20 pm_

_Keith-Yeun: No, thanks_

_Keith-Yeun: I’ve got studying to do_

He tacks the last part on as an afterthought, since it had seemed a little blunt. Not a second later, the ‘Acxa is typing…’ message pops up at the bottom of his screen.

_4:21 pm_

_Acxa: It could be an interesting experience_

_Acxa: I know you don’t get out a lot_

_Keith-Yeun: I’m fine, thanks_

_Acxa: Okay, but I’ll ask again soon._

_Acxa: Is this your first time using the messenger?_

_Keith-Yeun: Yeah_

_Acxa: You should change your username to something other than the school default._

Keith glares at his phone, letting out a little huff. It’s not like he’ll be using the messenger much, and he’d rather not have to make up some stupid username.

_4:22 pm_

_Keith-Yeun: Like what?_

_Acxa: Maybe a nickname?_

_Acxa: Do you have any?_

_Keith-Yeun: Do I seem like the kind of person who has a nickname?_

_Acxa: You might have had one back at Galra._

_Keith-Yeun: Well I’m not at Galra anymore_

_Acxa: Hm…_

_Keith-Yeun: What._

_Acxa: What about Mullet Man?_

_Keith-Yeun: No_

_Acxa: Knife Guy?_

_Keith-Yeun: No._

_Acxa: Well, think about it._

_Keith-Yeun: I won’t_

_Acxa: Think about the party, too._

_Keith-Yeun: No, and I’m surprised you’re actually going_

_Keith-Yeun: You don’t seem like the partying type_

_Acxa: I do what I want_

_Acxa: Also, Ezor invited me, so._

_Keith-Yeun: Sure, whatever_

Keith sighs, exiting the messenger. He’d rather step on hot nails than go to one of Acxa’s friends’ parties, no matter how responsibly monitored or self-contained they are, but he knows he’ll be dragged into it either way. He lets his head fall down onto his arms, mind wandering back to Lance.

Maybe it was a bad grade, or a fight with a friend, or something like that. Maybe Lance got in trouble at home, or maybe one of the more strict teachers called him out for swearing in class. Keith honestly doesn’t know what could have happened that’s so bad that it’s noticeable--Lance is normally the epitome of a happy, carefree person; a single positive light in Keith’s life.

Lance hadn’t looked like himself, earlier in the day. He’d seemed devastated, not to mention embarrassed, and not even Hunk could cheer him up. And Keith just wants him to feel better, maybe because it will make _him_ feel better to be able to watch them laugh and talk and yell like they normally do. It’s selfish, but there’s no one there to know except himself.

But like he said before, Lance--despite being happy and kind--is also intimidating. He’s been going to the Garrison since middle school, and he’s known Hunk and Pidge for years. How would Keith, of all people, be able to cheer him up if everyone else can’t?

Maybe… Maybe he should try. Maybe Pidge is right; he should take a chance for once. School is pretty boring, anyway, especially in the classes he has without Lance and his friends, so it couldn’t hurt to try something different. He should just go up and ask if Lance is okay, maybe take Pidge up on her offer to sit with them. What’s the worst thing that could happen?

He chooses not to think about the answer.

* * *

 

The rest of the night drags by slowly, and yet by the time Tuesday rolls around, it’s all too soon. Keith spends most of History on the edge of his seat, glancing over at Lance and Pidge every two seconds. He’s jittery--he barely takes any notes, and he doesn’t retain anything from the lecture Coran is presenting. (Pidge is right--it’s seriously hard to follow.)

The bell rings, and students file out of the class in a thick crowd. Keith shoves his binders in his backpack and looks around the classroom, searching for Lance and Pidge. _There_ \--on their way out the door into the main hall. Keith hurries to the door, trying to catch Lance before he disappears into the swarm of students.

Pidge’s voice carries over the hum of the hallway. “I’m just saying, he won’t-”

“Um, Lance?”

Keith’s voice comes out quiet--he clears his throat and tries again. “Uh, Lance?”

Lance glances back--not at him, but a little to his left. _Still not loud enough_. “Did you-”

“Come _on_ ,” Pidge interrupts, pulling him away. “We can’t be late again.”

Keith sighs, shoulders slumping as he watches them disappear towards the lockers, probably to meet up with Hunk. There goes his chance to get this out of the way quickly. The three of them have Physics together next, and then lunch, and then Keith doesn’t see him again until P.E. the next day, which isn’t a very good place for conversation. If he doesn’t do it today, he might never work up the confidence again.

The science room is half-filled with sophomores when he arrives, most of them on their phones. Keith takes his normal spot at the quietest table and pulls out his notebooks and pencils, doing his best not to glance up at the door every two minutes. Maybe this is a bad idea. Lance is talkative, meaning that there’s not a lot of time when Keith can approach him. He really doesn’t want to start a conversation during lunch, and the halls are too loud and crowded to talk in. His plan had been a short, quiet conversation-slash-introduction, but with the way things are going so far, he might actually have to yell to get noticed.

Not like he actually would, but still.

After he’s done everything that he can to distract himself--organizing his binders and supplies by size, color, and least to most favorite--he looks up again. It’s two minutes to class, and Lance and Pidge still aren’t at their normal table yet. Something tells him that today isn’t his day.

But he can’t give up. He’s not _going_ to give up.

He hears footsteps behind him and turns quickly to see Lance and Pidge making their way down the hall. “Hey, Lance,” he calls, reaching a hand out as if to stop him in place. If the bell just holds off for thirty--no, _ten_ more seconds--he’ll be able to get out a quick “I hope you feel better”. Just five seconds-

“Huh?” Lance turns around in confusion, scanning the sea of faces just as the bell rings. Pidge motions for him to sit down just as the science teacher, Ms. Sauceda, walks through the door. The bell rings, and Keith slumps in his chair dejectedly, ignoring the sounds of class beginning around him in favor of moping. Clearly, the universe isn’t in his favor today--but then again, when has it ever been?

There’s a lot of preparation for the school’s annual egg drop during Physics. Keith overhears (read: eavesdrops on) a conversation between Pidge and Lance about Hunk being the reigning champion of the Garrison egg drop contest. He watches out of the corner of his eye as Lance scoffs at something Pidge says, rolling his sea-blue eyes dramatically.

“Are you having trouble coming up with a design idea, Keith?” Ms. Sauceda asks kindly. Keith shakes his head, turning back to his own table.

“I’m alright, thanks,” he says, hoping she won’t ask about the completely blank sheet of graph paper that’s sitting in front of him. Luckily, somebody else calls for help and soon he’s on his own again.

With a sigh, he grabs a pencil from a pocket in his bag and starts brainstorming ideas. Lance might be distracting, but he’s not going to keep Keith from his work. It’s not like he’s totally, helplessly obsessed with him or anything.

Right?

* * *

 

A little over an hour and a half later, the bell rings and students start to gather up their supplies. Keith takes the two best designs for his project to the stack of papers at the front of the room, passing Lance’s table on the way. He’s nervous--over a boy, of all things. It’s definitely not his lowest moment, but it’s pretty far down.

Luckily, when he turns around, Lance and Pidge are still there. Pidge is stacking her books and binders into a messy pile while Lance shoves papers into his backpack.

“Hey, Lance?” Keith says, his voice catching in his throat again. “Uh, I just wanted to know if-”

“Hey, Keith!” Pidge exclaims, catching sight of him. “Lance, this is Keith.”

“Hey,” Lance says, barely bothering to look up as he crams a blue folder into his bag. Keith waves despite his lack of attention.

“So, did you decide to take me up on my offer?” Pidge asks, raising her eyebrow. “Or are you just here to steal our plans for the egg drop?”

“No, I- I wanted to know if- Uh…” Keith looks between Lance and Pidge uncertainly. “Um, if you guys were going to use a parachute or not,” he finishes lamely.

“Oh. Well, yeah, we probably are. Although, the no-parachute category _does_ intrigue me.” Pidge scratches her head, considering, before turning back to Keith. “Was that really all you came for?”

He’s been given a second chance; it would be a shame not to use it. “Actually, I wanted to know if Lance is okay,” he admits, glancing at Lance quickly. “Since, you know, you told me something bad happened yesterday.”

Pidge’s expression is one of surprise. “Oh, really? Well, Lance-”

The door to the classroom opens, and a tall student with long, dark hair enters. He looks familiar, but Keith can’t quite remember where he’s seen him before. Lance and Pidge both freeze as he scans the classroom, then heads towards the front.

“Pidge, let’s go,” Lance hisses, pulling his backpack over his hunched shoulders. Pidge nods, grabbing her own bag and following Lance towards the exit.

“Wait, but I-” Keith starts, unwilling to let Lance go again.

“Look, can you just-” Lance sighs in frustration, runs a hand through his already messy hair, then shakes his head. “I’m busy right now. Another time, okay?”

Keith watches them go despondently, standing in the main aisle of the classroom until the door slams closed. He sighs, hoists his backpack onto his shoulders, and turns.

The boy from before is looking at him strangely, but turns away as their eyes meet. Keith frowns, shrugs it off, and goes to bag up the rest of his things.

He’s run out of time. He’s going to need a new plan.

Reluctantly, he heads down the hall to the cafeteria, taking a seat at an empty table within observing distance of Lance’s usual table. (Because he’s a creep and an emotional masochist, okay?) It looks like the hot lunch of the day is hamburgers, which are only a step up from those greasy pizza rolls that nobody eats. He’s wondering if it would actually be healthier to skip lunch instead of eating ninety-eight percent artificial food like the rest of the school, when his phone vibrates in his pocket. It’s a message from Acxa.

_11:39 am_

_Acxa: Why so down?_

Keith glances around suspiciously, then turns back to his phone.

_Keith-Yeun: Are you watching me?_

_Acxa: No, Ezor is._

_Keith-Yeun: Why?_

_Acxa: Are you going to answer my question?_

_Acxa: You look like someone just recycled the love letter you shoved in their locker._

_Keith-Yeun: Ha ha._

_Keith-Yeun: Are you done?_

_Acxa: For now._

_Acxa: Anything I can help with?_

_Keith-Yeun: No, I’m alright_

_Acxa: You want to come sit with us?_

_Keith-Yeun: No, it’s fine_

_Acxa: Just head over if you change your mind_

_Keith-Yeun: Thanks_

Keith looks in the direction of Lance’s table, where a couple of people are lingering--probably whispering not so nice things, too, if their expressions are anything to go by--and then down at his phone. Axca’s comment about notes in lockers is ridiculous, sure, but it’s also starting to give him an idea.

It’s stupid, and really overly cliche--but it’s not like he’ll ever have a chance to talk to Lance otherwise. He’s always around Hunk and Pidge, and the only classes he has without them are ones Keith isn’t in either. But maybe if he could talk to Lance a _different_ way…

Keith knows a few things about the Garrison messaging system. It’s an official school system, but it’s monitored by specific trustworthy upperclassmen--most of whom are seniors who are busy with classes and extracurriculars. The public parts of students’ pages--usernames, profile pictures, and a space for a quote--are customizable, while the behind-the-scenes parts--the student’s legal name, birth date, whatever information’s in the school system--are permanent. But there’s also a private account option, which minimizes the amount of public information other students can see on the profile down to just the chat nickname. The faculty can still see everything, but to everyone else it’s completely hidden.

Maybe he can “customize” his profile a little, until it’s not quite recognizable as his, and then message Lance through the system. If things go bad, he can unsend all his messages and delete the conversation, and if they work out, he can casually reveal himself and maybe, possibly, _slowly_ work towards getting to know Lance more.

It’s not a foolproof plan, but it really is the best he’s got.

Keith opens the messenger again and goes to his profile. He’s got a pretty bare one as far as customization, since he only started using it yesterday, which means all he has to do for now is change the name.

But to what? It has to be something that can’t be easily connected to him, like all of Acxa’s suggestions from yesterday can. _Anonymous_ fits in too well with the secret admirer trope, which he definitely is _not_. He could do something generic like _that-one-guy_ or _creative-nickname_ , or something funny and random like _gay-strawberry_ , since he likes red and dresses like a seedy drug dealer. But he’s _not_ funny and random, and he’d never choose that name voluntarily, so he crosses it off the list almost immediately.

If only he had someone to ask, like all those bad high school movies where both main characters are pining for each other and gushing about it to their friends. (Not that he’s pining. He’s not _that_ pathetic.) Sadly, the only person he’d even consider calling his friend here is Pidge, and he doesn’t really get the whole let’s-talk-about-boys vibe from her, so the perfect nickname remains unknown.

_Unknown_.

He almost smacks himself in the face for not thinking of it sooner. It may be a little cliche as well, but it’s _perfect_ \--simple, blunt, no-nonsense, and straight to the point, just like him. It’s not as cheesy as _Anonymous_ , but a lot better than something like _gay-strawberry._ He types it into the nickname slot, then goes into settings and turns on the private account mode, just in case things don’t work out. Now for the hard part: the actual message.

Should he be direct, or work his way around to asking if Lance is okay? He should definitely get past “Hi” or he’ll probably be ignored, and he can’t come off too creepy or else he’ll get reported. Maybe he should scrap the whole idea and go back to watching from afar.

He looks over at Lance’s table again, where the older kids are still lurking. One of them whispers something to the other, who snickers cruelly, eyeing Lance out of the corner of their eye. Lance bows his head and stares down at his food miserably, while Pidge glares at the upperclassmen.

And Keith thinks that if he can make Lance feel even a little bit better, it will all be worth it.

He debates what to say to Lance throughout the rest of lunch, into the last two periods of the day, and during almost the entirety of his shift at the library. Finally, he throws all his ideas out the window and gets straight to the point with only two messages: _hey_ as an opening line, followed by _you seemed really upset yesterday. are you okay?_

It takes a few hours for Lance to respond, and he almost unsends the messages more times than he’d like to admit--because he’s not a _coward_ , okay, he just wants to survive his first year at the Garrison without being labeled a creep. But around twenty minutes past nine at night, a new message pops in from his notifications.

_9:18 pm_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Hey, thanks for asking_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I’m alright, just being dramatic_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: By the way, I don’t think I know you_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: This is Lance, in case you have the wrong guy. What’s your name?_

Keith reads the messages three or four times, reveling in the fact that he hasn’t been shut down yet. Lance almost seems… friendly.

Maybe this will work out after all. Maybe he’s finally found his chance. His luck is due for a change any time now, after the past few months. If he keeps this up without something going terribly wrong, he might actually have a shot at making a few friends.

He picks up his phone and types out a new message with shaking hands, unable to contain his nervous hope.

_9:24 pm_

_unknown: no, i have the right person_

_unknown: and my name is keith_

* * *

 

Despite staying up later than he’d like to admit waiting for a reply, Keith’s phone remains sadly silent for the rest of the night, and well into the morning. He’s beginning to have doubts--or maybe it’s just the adrenaline rush from Lance’s first reply wearing thin. Either way, he’s so nervous that he checks his phone five times in the same amount of minutes on the bus ride to school. Still nothing.

Has Lance given up on him? It wouldn’t be much of a surprise. After all, he probably doesn’t even know who Keith _is_ in real life, despite Pidge introducing him yesterday. Maybe he’s just decided to ignore the rest of the messages, now that he knows who Keith is.

He hovers over the few messages he and Lance have exchanged, wondering if he should just delete everything and forget the whole experience ever happened. But he still has a tiny bit of hope left--maybe Lance broke his phone, or maybe he’s just exceptionally busy. It’s not very likely, but Keith figures that he’s gotten too far to give up now. He’ll give it twenty-four hours, and if there’s still no reply, he’ll forget about Unknown forever.

The bus pulls up to the Garrison and the doors swing open. Keith calls a quiet thank you to the driver before hopping out, still clutching his phone as he walks to the door. He’s early; the doors to the gym don’t open for five minutes, so he takes a seat on the steps that lead to the basement. A few students are hanging around as well, but none of them spare him a glance.

Keith sets his phone down on the step next to him and attempts to think about something other than Lance. It should be easy; after all, nobody’s _that_ obsessed with someone they’ve never even had a proper conversation with. He turns the volume on his phone up and zones out not quite listening to whatever playlist he has on, content people-watching until class starts. At least nobody is paying any attention to him.

His song ends just in time for him to catch a familiar voice. Keith quickly pauses his music and angles himself away a little, so his back is facing the doors that lead to the stairs.

“I would have,” Lance is saying--because of course it’s Lance. “It’s just that my phone didn’t charge last night, and it was completely dead when I woke up. I would have been late if Pilar’s alarm didn’t wake me up, too.”

“So you just asked them their name and never responded?” Hunk asks as the two of them pass Keith on the steps.

“Yeah, pretty much. Allura’s letting me charge my phone in her room, though, so I’ll get to it after first period.”

Keith waits until they’ve rounded the corner and are _just_ out of earshot before grabbing his backpack and phone and walking quickly after them. They _have_ to be talking about Unknown, and he really wants to hear the end. If Lance really hadn’t had enough battery to respond this morning, that means he hadn’t been ignoring Keith on purpose. There’s still hope.

“You really think they’re gonna tell you, though? I mean, they must have gone all anonymous for a reason,” Hunk says doubtfully, dropping his backpack just outside the gym.

“I don’t know, dude,” Lance says. “Maybe it’s a cute girl or something. I’ll take my chances.”

“Alright,” Hunk agrees, sounding wary. “But isn’t it a little creepy that some anonymous stranger decided to message you? They could have at least used their real name.”

“Maybe they’re shy?”

“Maybe. Just… be careful, okay? We don’t know _anything_ about this Unknown person. They could be working with Rolo, or maybe they have old connections to Florona’s ex.”

“I promise I’ll be careful,” Lance sighs, setting his own bag down. “Jeez, Hunk, you don’t trust _anyone_.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Hunk agrees, “but I’d stay way far on the cautious side if I were you. Something about this whole anonymous messenger thing… I don’t know, it’s _creepy_.”

“It’s probably just some gawky freshman,” Lance says dismissively. “I’m not that concerned for my safety. But it _is_ kinda a weird thing to do.”

Coach Brooks blows her whistle as the bell rings, signifying the beginning of class. Keith stands there dumbly, watching Hunk and Lance walk away. Creepy. Weird. Of course that’s what they’d think of him. This is _high school_ , after all, and not in a teen-romance-novel kind of way.

What was he thinking?

_I need to unsend those messages,_ Keith thinks, starting to panic. _And quickly, before Lance finds out who I am_. His phone is in his backpack, which is outside the gym door with everyone else’s. He could ask Brooks if he can go get some water, but she probably wouldn’t agree so early into the class. And as much as he’d like to sneak out to get his phone, he knows there’s a pretty good chance that someone will catch him. He’s on most of the teachers’ good sides right now, and he doesn’t want to mess that up.

Lance’s phone is in Allura’s room upstairs. That means that Keith _should_ have enough time to unsend all his messages and delete the conversation before it’s too late. He can fix this. It’s going to be okay.

He’s jittery and distracted throughout all of first period, only managing to focus when they finish with their basketball drills and start in on the actual game. He easily scores his team a few points before backing off and letting the jocks steal the show. Still, he runs a little harder than necessary and successfully tires himself out enough to stop worrying about the messages for now. Exercise has always helped him take his mind off things, the harder the better.

Lance is on the opposing team, while Hunk is with Keith. The two best friends throw playful jibes at each other across the court, always trying to make it harder for the other one to score. Lance’s mood seems to be lightening, too, with the distraction of the game to keep him busy. That is, until a tall, athletic boy with bright blue hair knocks the ball out of Lance’s hands, whispering something in Lance’s ear and making a condescending face as he leaves. Lance’s smile drops in a split second.

Keith may or may not go a little bit harder on blue-haired-guy just for that.

Brooks calls them over five minutes before class ends to talk to them about technique. She praises Keith’s abilities along with blue-haired-guy and a few of his friends, which earns him a couple of dirty looks from the star athletes in the class. The bell rings and Keith jumps up, hurrying towards the door as fast as he can. _It will be fine_ , he thinks, watching Lance and Hunk make their way out the door.

“Keith, hold on a second,” Coach Brooks calls, marking something down on her attendance clipboard. Keith almost groans out loud. This _can’t_ be happening.

“Yeah?” he prods, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“I wanted to let you know that I’m giving well-behaved students with good grades preference when I pick my teams next year,” Brooks says, not looking up. “I’m not sure where you’d fit on a football team, but basketball and soccer are always open to you.”

“Uh, thanks,” Keith says, glancing towards the door. He’d rather die than join a Garrison sports team with those six-feet-tall popular kids that are straight out of some high school sitcom, but he figures arguing won’t get him out the door any faster.

“I hope you’ll at least take the time to try out,” Brooks continues, finally glancing up at him. “Colleges look for things like that on resumes, you know. But you’ve got until next year to make up your mind.”

“I’ll think about it,” Keith lies.

“Good. You’ve got potential, you know? I bet you’d make a good goalie.”

“Maybe.”

They’re the last ones in the gym. Lance has probably already gotten to his phone by now. Oh god, Keith’s gonna have to run away and change his name, or something equally as dramatic. Maybe he’ll call himself Unknown, just for the sake of irony, and maybe he can become the world’s next cryptid. The man who hides from the world because he did something stupid once and will never live it down: Shame Man.

“Keith? You can go now, if you want.”

“Huh? Oh, okay.” Keith nods curtly, then spins on his heel and sprints towards the door. _It’s too late_ , he keeps thinking, over and over as he grabs his phone from the top of his backpack and furiously types in the passcode. The screen automatically opens to his chat with Lance, where he’d left it before. The messenger says the message is unseen.

_Holy shit, there’s still time_.

Keith taps and holds on the last message, _my name is keith_ , until a little pop-up appears. He taps the _unsend message_ option while the school’s notoriously slow wifi buffers, and finally-- _finally_ \--the message disappears.

Keith breathes a sigh of relief. Now for the next one-

The little _seen_ icon pops up next to the next message, and then the _Dancing-Bi-Myself is typing…_ message appears. Keith panics, almost drops his phone, and exits the chat even faster than he’d run in class today. Two seconds later, a notification pops up on his screen, immediately followed by another.

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Keeping your identity a secret? Mysterious_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I’m intrigued_

Keith’s heart pounds in his chest unevenly. Oh crap. Shit. Fuck. Lance is _responding_.

He’s dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty rushed, but it goes much slower in future chapters. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of Unknown :)  
> [Link to Pepple's artwork here!](http://pepplemint.tumblr.com/post/167096665380/so-the-projects-for-klancebb2017-is-finally)


	2. Lance

Lance is stretched out on his bed, Lucy sprawled across his legs like an awkwardly-shaped bag of sand. His phone is in his hand, hanging off the side of the bed, screen blank. He chews on his lip, wanting to check the time but not wanting to move his head at all.

He feels funny, like he could stay like this forever and be content. It’s not laziness--no, he knows what that feels like and it’s completely different. He just doesn’t want to move. His arms are comfortable in this cramped position, one wedged under his pillow and the other almost touching the ground. His legs feel nice like this, his whole body is kind of numb and he knows that if he moves, he’ll ruin it.

It had been a bad week. It still _is_ a bad week. And it had started out so well Monday morning. There had been just enough cereal left in the box for him and his siblings before they went off to school, which Lucas had insisted was a good sign. He’d gotten a B+ on his middle-of-the-quarter essay for Physics, which is more than he’d expected and definitely more than he’d deserved. And to top it all off, he’d been invited to a senior party that weekend--well, a party _with_ seniors, but still--all because he’s friends with Pidge and Pidge’s brother is friends with the host. It should have been great.

Halfway through the day was when things started going downhill.

Lance closes his eyes and sighs dramatically, puffing his cheeks up, which disturbs Lucy. She sits up and jumps off the bed and out the door, ruining his perfectly uncomfortable position. Groaning, he rolls over onto his side and begrudgingly switches his phone on, shaking the pins-and-needles feeling out of his hand.

There are several message notifications from the group chat, most of which seem to be between Hunk and Pidge. The last one, from nine minutes ago, reads: “look, if Lance thinks that he’s so great, then we shouldn’t bash him.”

Perfect punctuation and only proper noun capitalization. Of course it’s Pidge. And of course she’s talking about _that_. The whole school is probably talking about it at this point. Lance rolls over again, groaning, and unlocks his phone to read the rest, although he just knows he’ll regret it. He scrolls to the top of the new messages and scans them quickly, knowing how fast new messages come in on the group chat.

_3:58 pm_

_Hunk-a-saurus: Lance buddy you OK?_

_Hunk-a-saurus: You kinda high tailed it out of class again today_

_Hunk-a-saurus: You’re missing Drama club for the second time this week!_

_Hunk-a-saurus: Also you forgot your homework again, too_

_pidge: well, I mean, yeah._

_pidge: so would you if you were in his situation._

_Hunk-a-saurus: Okay but it wasn’t that bad?_

_Hunk-a-saurus: And it’s been a day, shouldn’t it have blown over by now?_

_pidge: Lance, we’re going to the library._

_Hunk-a-saurus: Pls come Pidge won’t leave me alone about my presentation_

_Mattt: haha i wdnt go anywhere either after that shit show_

_Mattt: id becom a hermit_

_pidge: shut up, okay?_

_pidge: we’re all younger than you, be nice._

_Mattt: i m nice_

_pidge: Lance, it’s not that bad. he probably forgot already._

_pidge: actually, he might not have even heard us._

_Mattt: excuse me even i hrd u and i was in the lnch line on the othr side of the caf_

_Mattt: yall loud as hell_

_Hunk-a-saurus: Okay, but he probably gets stuff like that said about him all the time?_

_Hunk-a-saurus: Like everyone thinks that weirdo’s perfect_

_pidge: don’t call him a weirdo, Lance can read these._

_Hunk-a-saurus: Sorry but I dont like him_

_pidge: *don’t_

_Mattt: lol nerd_

_Hunk-a-saurus: I just don’t see the appeal? His hair is so...unnatural_

_pidge: look, if Lance thinks that he’s so great, then we shouldn’t bash him._

The conversation ends there. Lance rolls over and muffles his face into his pillow, letting out a long, thoroughly agonized groan. Of all the embarrassing things to happen in front of all the people…

Whatever. It’s not like Lotor had an eye on him before, anyway. Now he just has another reason to not talk to him.

Except now half the school knows that Lance thinks that he’s attractive, which is like a death sentence in itself. The Garrison isn’t particularly homophobic, but there isn’t exactly a surplus of queer teens that are actually out yet, and some people are still a little weird around the ones that are. (Especially Pidge, but she doesn’t care about what anyone else thinks of her. And if somebody misgenders her, she has her friends and the entire robotics club to correct them.)

So Lance finding a guy attractive isn’t the problem. No, the real problem is that the guy is _Lotor Tuan_ , the popular, genius, and annoyingly, unfairly handsome type of guy who’s both perfect and miles out of Lance’s league--and that’s saying a lot, coming from him. Lotor’s the prettiest guy in school (ask literally anyone), the most popular person at the Garrison--despite detaching himself from the rest of his peers--and he’ll probably be valedictorian of his class, too. And now he knows just how hot Lance thinks he is, all because of a too-quiet cafeteria and their impeccable bad timing.

And the icing on the cake seems to be that not only does he have two of his classes with Lotor, despite the two of them being in different grades, but Drama club as well. He hadn’t seen Lotor again on Monday, but today they’d had both History and Theater Arts together, and they’d seen each other in the science lab after Lance’s Physics class. The embarrassment is too much to handle, which is why he’s skipped club both days this week.

Lucy runs back into the room, knocking the door closed on her way in, and stares at him from the floor, then turns in a circle expectantly. She wants a walk, and even though he’s not technically her owner, he’s still the oldest one home, and he usually ends up taking her anyway. (And then giving his older sister a hard time about it later.)

He rolls off his bed with a groan, scrubbing at his face. He hasn’t been crying (more like sulking, his not-so-helpful brain points out), but he still looks like a wreck in the mirror. There are dark circles under his eyes, and his hair is all messed up from rolling around and running his hands through it--a habit he’s been trying to drop ever since Pidge told him he looks like an emo hipster when he does it.

He hears soft footsteps running down the hall, and then a second later his door is being pushed open by little six-year-old hands and Allie stumbles inside. He has a blanket wrapped around his waist and he’s wearing his favorite green butterfly shirt. “Laaance,” he says, lifting his arms expectantly.

“Hey, bud.” Lance bends down and scoops his little brother up, twirling him around playfully. Allie rests a hand on Lance’s head, playing with his short hair.

“When is Mami coming home?” he drones as Lance sets him down on the bed.

“Five, like usual. Where’s Vi?”

“In the bathroom.” Allie points out the door, then turns back to Lance. “I want an orange, but she said it’s too close to dinner.”

Lance shakes his head. “I’ll get you one,” he promises. “And then when Vi gets back I’m gonna walk Lucy. Do you want to come or stay here?”

Allie doesn’t reply immediately, so Lance heads to the kitchen. They’ve got oranges, luckily, but there’s also a fresh batch of muffins on the counter. He grabs one of each and spins around, only to be met with a glare.

“Those are for the talent show fundraiser,” Violeta snaps, glaring at him.

“The talent show funds just go towards a new coffee machine for the teachers,” Lance argues, shoving the whole thing in his mouth before he even finishes the sentence.

“It’s a charity food drive.”

“Then why do you need a bake sale? Aren’t you already charging canned food as substitute admission?”

“Fine. Next time the high schoolers are raising money for one of their trips, don’t expect me to help out.”

Lance shrugs, grabs another muffin, and high-tails it out of the kitchen before Violeta can yell at him. He slips back into his room, hands the orange to Allie (who’d been patiently waiting on his bed) and picks him up again. “Come on, I’ve got a dog to walk and you’ve got fruit to eat.”

“Did you give him an orange?” Violeta asks, poking her head out from the kitchen as they wander down the hall. Her blonde hair is tied back and shoved under a battered denim cap, falling in front of her face. “Mami says we’re having dinner early today, you know.”

“He’ll be fine,” Lance replies with a shrug, looking over his shoulder. Her eyes narrow further and she crosses her arms.

“No more muffins.”

“And who’s gonna stop me?”

Violeta smirks. “I’ll tell Mami you’re putting my service project in jeopardy, and she’ll ground you.”

Lance stiffens. He really doesn’t want to miss the senior party, even if it means seeing some of Lotor’s peers there. “You drive a hard bargain,” he admits, walking over and shoving Allie into her arms. “Fine. I’m walking Lucy, so good luck with that one.”

“Not like you ever help look after him, anyway.”

Lance and Violeta both go to the Garrison, a middle and high school combination that’s a mere fifteen-minute walk away from their house, so they’re always the first ones home. Their neighbors bring Allie back from his preschool around the same time, and Violeta usually keeps an eye on him until one or the other of their parents comes home, because despite being twelve, she’s the most trustworthy one between the two of them.

Honestly, eighteen-year-old Pilar is probably the most trustworthy of them all, but she goes to the tech school half an hour’s walk away. Lucas and Luis (both of them fifteen) go there as well, and all three of them usually come home around the same time. It’s probably the worst arrangement for poor Allie, since he pretty much hates Violeta and only tolerates Lance because of the snacks he sneaks for him.

“If you say that you’re going to leave, then leave,” Violeta snaps, and something in the kitchen clatters against the ground. Lance sighs dramatically, reaching for Lucy’s leash. At the sound, the golden retriever comes bounding out of the kitchen and practically tackles him.

“Down,” Lance commands. “Lucy, stop it! Come on!”

He wrangles the clip onto the silver loop at the back of her collar, then gets dragged forcefully out the door, passing the twins on his way down the driveway.

“Where’s Pilar?” he yells, pulling desperately at Lucy’s leash. “What happened to nerd club?”

“It’s the Retro Video Game Club, excuse you,” Lucas replies, glaring.

“She’s taking the next bus,” Luis adds, more helpfully.

“If she comes back before I do, send her out! I’m not walking her dog any more than I have to!”

Lucy speeds up and Lance waves his arms frantically to regain his balance. He quickens his pace, stumbling and almost falling to the ground. Lucy tugs at her leash impatiently, intent on smelling every fallen leaf that comes in front of them as fast as she possibly can. Lance shakes his head, feeling just a little bit better.

He’s still gonna give Pilar a hard time for the walk, though.

* * *

 

Lance still has his phone on Do Not Disturb from earlier in the day, but he checks the Garrison messenger regularly, so it’s no surprise when he opens the app later in the evening and finds Pidge logged in and spamming the group chat with pictures of her dog.

_8:47 pm_

_pidge shared a photo_

_pidge shared a photo_

_pidge shared a photo_

_pidge: pidge shared a photo_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Pidge what the fuck_

_pidge: I just wanted to know if anyone was paying attention._

_pidge: clearly you have nothing better to be doing than looking at my gorgeous doggo._

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Okay you know what_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Fuck you_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: And your dog_

_pidge: *gasp*_

_pidge: sexy ;)_

_pidge: also illegal._

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: God_

_Hunk-a-saurus: Pidge!_

_pidge: moving on…_

_Hunk-a-saurus: GOOD_

_pidge: hey, Lance, how’s your MWH grade?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Um_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I’m passing, got a B_

_pidge: you should ask Keith to help you._

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Keith who?_

_pidge: Keith Yeun, the emo kid._

_pidge: or I could do it._

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Pidge ur like 10_

_pidge: *you’re_

_Hunk-a-saurus: She’s 14, Lance_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: She looks 10_

_pidge: I’m smarter than you, though. I don’t use abbreviations._

_Hunk-a-saurus: She’s smart enough to be in high school_

_pidge: probably smart enough to be a grade above you two_

_Hunk-a-saurus: I changed my mind, throw her out_

“Lance, put your phone away!”

His mom towers above him threateningly, her eyes narrowed accusingly. “We’re trying to spend time together, for God’s sake. ¡ _Guard_ _ál_ _o_!”

“Yeah, Lance,” Lucas adds teasingly, throwing him a smirk. Luis hits his brother in the elbow, reaching for the wrench he’s holding.

“Need that,” he mutters, swiping it out of Lucas’s hand, much to his protest.

The two brothers aren’t really any of the twin cliches in the book. For one thing, they’re fraternal, so while it’s hard for some to tell them apart, they do have their distinct differences. Luis is about four inches taller, and his hair is a much darker brown than Lucas’s, which is more like Lance’s. They share clothes, but Luis always wears sweaters and Lucas never does, unless it’s his JV baseball jacket. And while Luis is a little quieter than Lucas, he’s still just as devious on the inside. A little different, a little similar.

Allie crawls over Violeta’s lap to sit on Pilar, who shifts him to the side so she can see her book. Across the room, Lance snorts. Pilar studies basically 24/7 nowadays, since she’s a senior and all, but she won’t ever push Alejandro away.

“ _Mijo_ , come here,” Lance’s dad calls, motioning for Allie to come sit with him. He tumbles across Pilar and down onto the floor, making his way over to him on the other side.

“And when are you having Pidge and Hunk over again?” his mom asks, crossing her arms. “I never see them anymore. Did something happen?”

“No, Mami,” Lance groans. “We’re all just really busy with school.”

“Well, invite them over sometime! Or bring them back after the party. I need someone to fix my computer.”

Lance rolls his eyes. “Mami, Hunk and Pidge aren’t your personal tech experts,” he scolds, glancing down at his phone. Pidge is screaming at him to fight her in the Taco Bell parking lot, and Hunk is spamming the crying emoji. His mom scoffs.

“Fine, fine, answer those.”

“But you should help Violeta with her homework when you’re done,” his father adds from across the room.

“I don’t want Lance’s help, Papi!” Violeta replies.

“What, are you too cool for me now?” Lance sticks his tongue out at her like a child, and she responds by flipping him off.

Turning his attention away, Lance unlocks his phone and opens the Garrison messenger again. There are fifty-nine new messages from their group chat, plus one from his tutor and two from somebody whose name he doesn’t quite catch before he opens his friends’ texts.

_8:53 pm_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Oh holy fuck guys_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Can you all just chill_

_Mattt: nah_

_Mattt: no chillin we die like men_

_pidge: excuse you._

_Mattt: its a meme, ok?_

_Hunk-a-saurus: Thank god you’re back_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Okay but Ive got like 100 new messages_

_Hunk-a-saurus: I’ve_

_pidge: *I’ve_

_Hunk-a-saurus: HA TAKE THAT_

_Mattt: OH SHIT_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: DAMN_

_pidge: fuck you all._

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Wow, and I thought you were ace_

_Hunk-a-saurus: Lance pls_

_pidge: cheap shot._

_pidge: also it’s aceflux you ass._

_Mattt: BOI_

_Dancing-Bi-myself: Hold on a second, though, gotta answer Allura_

_pidge: continue the spam, Hunk_

Lance exits the group chat and opens his other messages, rolling his eyes. Although he could do fine in school without a tutor, he ended up signing up for the free programs for extra help. His tutor, Ms. Boatema (or Allura, as she likes to be called) is the school’s English and Theater Arts teacher. She’s really nice and understanding, she acts all casual in class, she talks to them like equals, she loves capital letters, and she’s got an awesome British accent from her childhood in England, which she likes to talk about. They meet twice a week during Lance’s Study Skills class, and he actually genuinely enjoys it.

_8:59 pm_

_PrincessAllura-B: LANCE ANSWER YOUR MESSAGES!_

_PrincessAllura-B: LANCE!!_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: What?_

_PrincessAllura-B: Where were you?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: …I was doing my homework?_

_PrincessAllura-B: No, you weren’t._

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Are you sure?_

_PrincessAllura-B: Positive :)_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Fine, you caught me_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I was talking to Hunk and Pidge_

_PrincessAllura-B: I’m a genius!_

_PrincessAllura-B: Also I can see when you’re active on the messenger_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Foiled again_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: So, what did you need?_

_PrincessAllura-B: I’m canceling our sessions for the rest of the semester._

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: What? Why?_

_PrincessAllura-B: Because you’re doing fine on your own, and there are other kids who need my help._

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Who signs up this late in the year?_

_PrincessAllura-B: The freshmen_

_PrincessAllura-B: *eyeroll*_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Okay but Mr. Coran’s a tutor too, isn’t he?_

_PrincessAllura-B: He’s busy with the seniors_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Shirogane?_

_PrincessAllura-B: He’s busy, too._

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Alright, I guess_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Good luck with your freshmen_

_PrincessAllura-B: Thank you, Lance._

_PrincessAllura-B: I’ll need it ;)_

Lance pouts, shoulders drooping. Aside from the obvious fact that she’s super helpful, Allura’s also really fun to hang out with. She’s nice to him and listens to his problems, which is something that Pidge and Hunk don’t understand at all. (“Why would you trust a teacher?” Hunk had asked him once. “They tell parents everything.”)

He’s about to open the group chat again when the other messages catch his attention.

It’s from somebody named _unknown_ , which is a little weird. Sure, a lot of people at the Garrison don’t use their real names as their handles on the messenger, but most of them still use nicknames or something that has to do with them. But Unknown isn’t a nickname or anything like that, so what could the messages be about?

His interest piqued, Lance taps the new chat and scans the messages.

_4:21 pm_

_unknown: hey._

_unknown: you seemed really upset yesterday. are you okay?_

Well. That’s weird.

Sure, Lance knows he had probably looked a little off in class earlier that day, but nobody ever takes him seriously, so he hadn’t been expecting anyone to notice. He takes a screenshot of the conversation and sends it to the group chat.

_9:12 pm_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself shared a photo_

_Hunk-a-saurus: What the heck?_

_pidge: oh my god I’m dying._

_pidge: Lance has a secret admirer._

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: What do I do?_

_Mattt: this is 2 fuckin good_

_Mattt: smbdy pinch me_

_pidge: on it._

_Mattt: FUCK NO NEVRMND I TAKE IT BACK_

_Mattt: U HAVE TINY MONSTER FINGERS GET AWAY_

_Hunk-a-saurus: Are you gonna respond?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I don’t know? Should I? What do I do in this situation_

_pidge: I say you should._

_Hunk-a-saurus: Don’t be a dick about it_

_pidge: yes, if you’re going to be a jerk just don’t respond at all._

_Mattt: but b careful if u do respond_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: THIS ISN’T HELPFUL_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: SOMEBODY JUST TELL ME WHAT TO DO!!!_

_pidge: respond._

_Hunk-a-saurus: Respond and be nice!_

_Mattt: respond boi_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Okay, I will_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Wish me luck_

_pidge: luck._

Lance sighs, shakes his head, sighs again (because he’s a dramatic person) and switches between chats. The strange messages stare him in the face, and he wonders if this is really a good idea. The whole “never talk to strangers” thing has stuck with him throughout high school, and was only reinforced when Lucas and Pilar came back from school one day with a public-transport-plus-homeless-man-plus-fresh-pizza horror story.

But there’s absolutely no way that anyone (besides Pidge) could hack the messenger, and even if they did, it’s not like they’d spend their time talking to Lance. The messenger has like, three layers of security, so nobody else besides staff and students is able to download or log in to the messenger without hacking. Whoever this ‘Unknown’ is, they definitely go to the Garrison, and they’re almost definitely a student. Lance figures that that’s reason enough to respond, even though it’s probably just a prank. He types out a quick reply, figuring he should go for vague but friendly just in case.

_9:18 pm_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Hey, thanks for asking_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I’m alright, just being dramatic_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: By the way, I don’t think I know you_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: This is Lance, in case you have the wrong guy. What’s your name?_

When a response doesn’t come immediately, Lance switches back to the group chat. Matt has gone again, and Pidge and Hunk are just excusing themselves, so he figures that there’s no reason to stick around.

He stretches, cracks his back (much to Luis’s disgust), and heads over to Violeta. She might think she’s too cool for his help, but she’ll appreciate it anyway.

* * *

 

Lance is completely wrecked the next day at school. He’d stayed up late for the second night in a row worrying about the whole Lotor situation, and without the distraction of his friends, he’d barely gotten any sleep.

However, nobody brings it up. In fact, it almost seems as if the whole thing has completely blown over within forty-eight hours, just like his friends had predicted. Pidge _does_ elbow him in the side when Lotor walks by with a few of his friends--or the Princes, as the school’s taken to calling them--and a few people whisper and giggle when he passes through the halls, but aside from that it’s like the whole thing never even happened.

P.E. goes by in a blur of muscle conditioning, basketball, and talking to Hunk about Unknown. (“Isn’t it a little creepy that some anonymous stranger decided to message you? They could have at least used their real name,” Hunk had said.) Despite everyone’s doubts, there’s a new message from Unknown waiting for him when he finally charges his phone.

_9:24 pm_

_unknown: no, i have the right person_

Well, that doesn’t exactly help Unknown’s case. They still haven’t given a name or a motive or any information about themself, but they also don’t seem like a malicious trickster or a creepy gossip. And despite the fact that Lance has every reason to be suspicious, he finds himself replying anyway.

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Keeping your identity a secret? Mysterious_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I’m intrigued_

After that he’s got Study Skills, which is more like study hall if he’s being honest, and then it’s lunchtime. The cafeteria is a mess as always, and he has to practically dance around the tables to get to the hot bar.

It’s lasagna today, one of Lance’s favorite school foods--much better than oily cheese pizza, at least. Hunk makes a disgusted face, but piles a big helping onto his tray anyway.

Lance grabs a soda and a bag of chips, and the two of them make their way over to their table, where the Gunderson-Holts are already sitting with their gross rabbit food. Pidge makes a face at Lance’s pasta, and he returns the favor for her vegetable meatloaf.

“I hate my Spanish class,” Hunk complains, watching Matt twirl some vegan-sauce-covered noodles around his fork. “I mean, maybe it’s from hanging out with you, Lance, but I really don’t think that I should be in Spanish one.”

“Hunk, you took Spanish for seven years before high school,” Pidge reminds him. “It’s obviously not hanging out with Lance.”

“But it’s an easy A for you guys,” Matt complains. “I mean, I had like one Spanish class in sixth grade, and now they’re expecting me to be practically fluent?”

“Ms. Khalsa is _not_ expecting you to be fluent,” Lance argues. “And she’s a terrible teacher, anyway, so it doesn’t matter.”

Matt is about to respond, but Pidge cuts him off with a loud “Hey!” She stands up on her chair and waves her arms around wildly, trying to get someone’s attention.

“Pidge, _sit down_!” Hunk exclaims. “What are you even doing?!”

“Hey!” Pidge yells again. “Keith! Over here!”

Lance frowns, scanning the sea of bodies for whoever his friend might be yelling at. “Keith?” he asks, frowning.

“Keith! _Keeeeiiith_!!”

Pidge seems to have made contact, gesturing for Keith to come over, but a second later she sits down again. “I guess he doesn’t want to sit with us,” she says, frowning.

“Who’s Keith, again?” Craning his neck, Lance manages to catch sight of a slightly familiar looking head of black hair.

“Keith’s my friend! He volunteers at the library and he’s in a bunch of our classes. You met him yesterday after Physics, remember?” she asks.

“Um, I kind of just remember sneaking out of class after Lotor walked in,” Lance confesses with a shrug.

“You really don’t know of Keith at all?”

Lance shrugs again, turning back to his lasagna. The Garrison is a big place; he gave up on memorizing everyone’s name a long time ago.

“I guess I’ll have to introduce you two again.” Pidge sinks down in her chair, thinking. “Maybe he can get us extra-long extensions on our books…”

Lance rolls his eyes at her, then turns to the others. “So, who’s ready to party?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows. “I’m gonna dance like there’s no tomorrow, pick up a few numbers…”

“That sounds like a high school cliche if I’ve ever heard one,” Matt says.

“Are you sure we should go to that?” Hunk asks, looking concerned. “I mean, will there be any other sophomores there?”

“Probably? I mean, it’s a pretty big deal from what I’ve heard,” Lance replies.

“Is it safe? There could be dangerous people there.”

“Oh, come on!” Matt exclaims. “I’ll probably be there, and you trust me, right?”

“That doesn’t exactly make me feel better,” Hunk says with a playful half-grin. Lance elbows him in the side, and he almost drops his food.

“Come on, it’ll be fun!”

“Hey, careful, man.” Hunk stabs at another piece of lasagna and stares down at Lance’s plate in concern. “Are you gonna eat that? I thought you said you didn’t have breakfast today.”

“I was busy, okay?” Lance shovels a forkful of lasagna into his mouth, burning his tongue along the way. The cheese is thick and chewy, but the sauce is good enough to mask its non-taste.

“Hey,” Pidge says, leaning across the table. “Did you reply to that Unknown person?”

Matt turns, his attention captured. “Yeah, how did that go? What did she say?”

“How do you know it’s a girl?” Hunk asks as Lance chews his food thoughtfully.

“Well, would a guy do something like that? It seems pretty girly to me.”

Pidge elbows her brother--hard--in the side. “Ow!” he yelps. “What the fuck?”

“Gender norms, Matt, gender norms.”

Hunk’s laughter echoes around the room, and Lance almost chokes while trying to swallow. He manages.

“They didn’t really seem like a girl or a boy,” he says finally. “They were kind of ambiguous feeling. I asked who they were but they kind of just avoided the question.”

“Shucks,” Matt says sympathetically.

Lance pulls out his phone, shoveling lasagna into his mouth. “Oh, never mind,” he mumbles around his food. “They responded.”

Sure enough, there’s a red icon on the Garrison messenger app, indicating a new message. Lance opens it up and switches from the group chat to his private message with Unknown. There are two new messages from earlier in the morning.

_9:51 am_

_unknown: forget it, i’m not anybody_

_unknown: just some random internet creep_

Lance reads the messages out loud, frowning deeper with each word. “Do you think they heard what we said in the gym?” he asks Hunk. “Seems kind of word-for-word.”

“We said _anonymous_ internet creep,” Hunk replies. “And there’s no way. We were being quiet.”

Lance sighs. “I want to know who this is,” he says, shaking his head. “Pidge, can you hack the account?”

“In a few weeks, maybe,” Pidge says, “ _or_ you could just check their profile.”

Lance blinks slowly for a second, before slamming his hand on his forehead. “Why am I dumb?” he groans, looking down at his phone. He taps Unknown’s profile photo, (the default white-on-gray outline), and waits for it to load. The school’s wifi is notoriously slow.

Hunk hovers over his shoulder curiously. “It’s blank,” he states, scratching his head. Lance frowns, refreshing the profile. It still comes up blank.

“Of course it is!” Matt exclaims, rolling his eyes at them. “I mean, if this kid’s gonna be anonymous, they might as well be thorough about it.”

“I didn’t even know you could do that,” Hunk says.

“Yeah, it’s like a safety mechanism in case you’re being stalked or someone creepy messages you. A private account.”

“But don’t they at least have to give the student’s name?”

Matt shakes his head. “Unless you’re a known troublemaker or whatever, you can change your profile and stuff all you want. Except your name, the one you’re registered under on the rosters and stuff, but that gets hidden with the private account. If you do it too much, the monitors interfere and your account gets frozen.”

“Monitors?” Hunk asks, sounding confused.

“Yeah, monitors. The teachers don’t have time to monitor all the students, so they place juniors and seniors in charge of that while they grade papers or whatever, but yeah.”

“Oh, I get it.”

“I can’t believe you got my hopes up for nothing, Pidge,” Lance sighs.

“Hey, don’t blame me!” she exclaims indignantly. “I thought you would have done it already.”

Lance sighs, slumping even further into his chair. “I can’t believe this.”

“Dude, are you pouting?” Hunk leans in close, squinting at him. Lance smacks him away.

“Just eat your pasta,” he groans.

Matt rolls his eyes. “Are you going to respond to them, or are you giving up?” he asks playfully, gesturing to Lance’s phone.

“Of course I’m not giving up!” Lance replies, indignant. “Whoever they are, they could be cute!”

“Classic Lance,” Pidge scoffs, but he can tell that her interest is piqued. “Keep us updated?”

“Of course,” he promises, eyes flicking back to his screen. Unknown’s messages stare back at him, a little bit of a challenge. He squints, as if there’s some type of clue hidden in the few messages they’ve exchanged so far.

“Maybe they like you,” Hunk teases, wiggling his eyebrows. Lance scoffs, throwing a paper napkin in his direction.

“Maybe you need a reality check,” he replies, typing out a message as he speaks. _Don’t say that you’re nobody! Who are you really?_ “The whole secret admirer thing is totally out of style.”

“And how would you know?” Matt asks cheekily. “It’s not like you’re some type of romance expert or anything.”

“Hey, rude.” Lance flips off the older Gunderson-Holt, which only makes him laugh. He crosses his arms like an angry kid.

“Piiidge, tell your brother to stop bullying me,” he complains.

“Nope.”

“Hunk! Come on, man.”

Hunk shakes his head, a smile on his face. “Sorry, Lance, but I have to agree with Matt.”

“You’re all terrible,” Lance groans. “Maybe Unknown will be nicer to me.”

“Lance and Unknown sitting in a tree,” Pidge sings gleefully.

“K-I-S-S-I-N-G!!” Matt and Hunk join in gleefully, chanting maybe a _little_ too loud. Lance is about to retaliate when a voice behind him makes him stop dead in his tracks.

“What’s this?”

Matt, Hunk, and Pidge stop chanting abruptly, and everyone around them falls dead silent. Lance turns around, a sinking feeling in his stomach, and pastes on a fake smile.

“Hey, Rolo,” he says, trying not to sound suspicious. “What do you need?”

Rolo, the school’s newspaper reporter (and owner of the Garrison Gossip, his own personal gossip blog,) grins back at him easily, his bleached blonde hair a stark contrast to his dark skin. He’s holding a notepad which he definitely will not be using, and there’s a pen stuck behind his ear, held in place by his aviator’s goggles. His presence puts Lance on edge almost immediately.

The thing is, Rolo’s not a bad guy in the eyes of the Garrison’s student body. (Lance’s opinion is totally biased.) He seems friendly enough, he’s easy-going and only a bit of a stoner, but he’s not _trustworthy_. He thrives off his blog, which runs off secrets that poor saps expose to him one way or another. He’s extremely stubborn, and extremely manipulative, so it’s not hard to imagine that his blog does pretty well. For the majority of the school year, Lance has been able to protect his group from Rolo’s gossip, but now…

He’d never admit it, but he’s a little nervous. He’s seen firsthand what a good writer with bad intentions can do, and he’s not ready to let it happen to him.

“Hey yourself, Fuentes. I hope you don’t mind, but I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions. I’m writing an article, you see.”

Lance doesn’t bother asking if he’s writing for the Garrison Gossip or the Garrison Times; it’s obvious which it is. “Actually, I’m a little busy,” he explains, trying to stay calm. Rolo doesn’t buy it for a second.

“It won’t even take a minute,” he promises, smile sickeningly innocent despite the determination practically dripping off of him. Lance grits his teeth, trying not to glare.

“Sure,” he says, hoping that he can just play it off. If the look Rolo is giving him is anything to go by, he can’t.

“So, I heard you have a thing for Lotor Tuan?”

Lance sucks in a sharp breath before he can stop himself. Rolo’s eyes light up like a cat’s.

“Oh, it’s true, then? I wanted to get something directly from the source, but I didn’t think it would be _this_ easy!”

“No, no, you’ve got it all wrong!” Lance protests, voice going up in pitch. “I don’t _like_ him, I just admire him! There’s a difference!”

Rolo pretends to deliberate for a second, before shaking his head. “Lance, friend, I thought we were above lying to each other.”

“I’m not lying!” Lance almost yells, glaring up at him. Rolo may be a manipulative writer with a silver tongue, but he’s not invincible. If he can just divert his attention, or backtrack out of the hole he’s already dug himself, he might be able to get out of the Garrison Gossip’s spotlight.

“Then what about your little outburst at lunch the other day?” Rolo’s playful tone has dropped, turning into something closer to mockery. “Really, you think we’d all forget something like that?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Lance practically growls. His heart pounds in his chest, uncomfortably loud to his ears. _Not again._

“Rolo, leave him alone,” Matt snaps.

“Come on, just admit it. I promise it’s for a good cause.”

Pidge snorts. “Yeah, if by good cause you mean a boost for your ego, then sure.”

Rolo whirls on her with a glare, all traces of his former carefree act gone. “You Gunderson-Holts don’t think that I have dirt on you? I could _ruin_ you.” The last part is said with a meaningful look at Pidge, who glares right back. Matt looks ready to lunge over the table and knock Rolo’s teeth out.

“Leave them out of this,” Lance says, standing up. “You’re being _tremendo cabeza de pinga_. If it’s me you want to expose, then you should be threatening _me_.”

Even as he speaks, an uncomfortable feeling twists in his gut. He doesn’t want to talk about Lotor, especially not to _Rolo_ . He doesn’t even want to _think_ about Lotor right now, and this jerk’s just itching to expose his dumb crush for a good story. He’s seconds away from pulling Pidge and Hunk away from the table and making a run for it.

“Don’t get all defensive, _Fuentes_ ,” Rolo scoffs, crossing his arms. “We all know that you’re hot for Lotor, so why don’t you just do me a favor and admit it? I need it on record.”

“Like we’d ever go on record for you,” Hunk scoffs, although it’s said quietly. Hunk doesn’t like conflict--he sees enough of it at home.

Lance’s skin burns, and his fists itch to break something--preferably Rolo’s jaw. “Don’t you have anyone better to bother?” he deadpans.

“Jesus, you’re hopeless.” Rolo rolls his eyes and sighs, taking large steps forward until they’re face to face and he’s leaning into Lance’s space. “If you don’t spill right now, I’ll frame you for things you can’t even _imagine_. Your rep will be in tatters, you could even get suspended, all because of your dumb pride. And you don’t want that, do you?”

“You’re all talk,” Lance scoffs, pushing back his chair and standing up. He needs to get out of here.

“Aren’t there better subjects to write about than Lance’s dumb _platonic admiration_?” Pidge asks, standing as well. Rolo pays little attention to her, his entire focus directed at Lance.

“Whatever. I’ll just publish the story anyway. I’ve got enough evidence, thanks to you,” he scoffs, shaking his head. “It’s too bad. And here I thought you and your friends had learned your lesson from what happened last year.”

Behind him, he hears Pidge suck in a sharp breath and Hunk drop his fork onto his plate. Rolo stares at him expectantly, like a challenge, and Lance’s vision flashes red. Without thinking, he lunges towards Rolo, fists clenched and aiming straight for his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the positive comments you left on the first chapter! I'm glad that people are excited to see what will happen next. I hope this chapter lived up to your hopes!  
> [Pepple's artwork for this chapter!](http://pepplemint.tumblr.com/post/167420630995/as-usual-i-am-late-but-the-next-two-chapters-of) Pepple's artwork for chapter one [here.](http://pepplemint.tumblr.com/post/167096665380/so-the-projects-for-klancebb2017-is-finally)  
> Next update on November 9th.


	3. Keith

He’s so dumb, and he’s so screwed, and why the _hell_ did he think this was a good idea?

Firstly, the whole “secret admirer” thing is really fucking third grade. Practically notes-in-your-locker level immature. It’s like making a big “Wanna be friends?” card with him and Lance drawn in crayon on the front and presenting it with only the disguise of a ski mask.

Secondly, he’s still using _his_ account as Unknown’s. If somebody needs to message him, they’re going to find out. Sure, he has the secret profile setting on, but not only can staff and faculty see it, they’ll be forced to look into it if anyone suspects anything weird going on. What if Lance is creeped out? What if he reports the account and then Keith gets exposed for the stalker he is? _What then?_

As if this wasn’t enough, Keith suddenly realizes that Pidge, one of Lance’s best friends in the whole school, is a computer _genius_ and his other best friend Hunk is already suspicious of Unknown. To reiterate: he’s screwed.

Actually, now that he thinks about it, it might have actually been a better idea to stick something to Lance’s locker. It’s completely one-way, and there’s virtually no way for anyone to know that it was him, aside from fingerprints or DNA testing. Messaging Lance had been an impulse decision, despite the hours he’d spent wondering what he should actually write. In the end, he’d just sent a few simple messages, half of which he regrets.

At least Lance hasn’t reported or blocked him yet, which is a pretty good sign that he won’t in the future, unless Keith _seriously_ creeps him out. After the whole _my name is keith_ scare earlier in the morning, he’s become more and more nervous about getting caught. What will he do if the school board investigates? His dad and Sarah? What if the rest of the school finds out that he’s stalking some boy he doesn’t even know?

He’d waited exactly fifteen minutes before sneaking out of the Spanish classroom and typing a hurried response to Lance. Hopefully it’s kind enough to make Lance feel better while showing that their short conversations had been a mistake and he should just ignore Keith-- _Unknown_ , that is--from here on out. But he still finds himself glancing at his phone every few minutes, waiting for the answer he hopes doesn’t come. Despite the huge amounts of trouble he could get into, he doesn’t want to feel like an outsider anymore. Talking with Lance could give him something to look forward to, and maybe it could still be a gateway into a real friendship.

“Keeeith!”

Whirling around (and almost knocking over an empty plastic cafeteria chair), Keith catches sight of Pidge, practically standing on the table and waving her arms frantically above her head. They lock eyes, and Pidge gestures for him to come over. Keith shakes his head, shrugging apologetically, and after a few more seconds of eye-conversation she pouts and sits back down.

Maybe if Lance wasn’t there, he’d have jumped at the opportunity. Pidge is friendly and fun to hang out with, and from what he can tell, Hunk is as well, but he just knows that if he goes over he’ll do something dumb in front of them all, and then he’ll have to transfer schools and change his name and burn every piece of evidence that he’d ever gone to the Garrison. (Acxa would call him a drama queen, but whatever.) Besides, he doesn’t trust himself to be around Lance or his friends so soon after the whole Unknown situation began.

No, it’s much safer to just stay away from them and their perfect world, he figures. In a few years he’ll be out of here anyway, and then it’s not like it will even matter if he’s made friends or not. Mostly he should just focus on his grades, see if he can get into college, all the good stuff. He doesn’t really have a direction to go in after high school, but he’s leaning towards astronomy or something to do with tech. Maybe cars, if he can’t get into a good college.

He sits down at his usual table, one mostly devoid of people. Despite the crowded lunch hall, it seems that everyone would rather stand around tables that are already full than sit with him. Acxa asks him if he wants to come sit with her friends--group--whatever, but he always declines. He doesn’t particularly mind being alone, since he can knock most of his homework out of the way before the next class.

Keith pokes at his lasagna, not really feeling the need to eat. He’s hungry, sure, but the school environment is nothing if not unappetizing, and even though lasagna is the best hot lunch the school serves, it’s still a little rubbery and gross. (He prefers the food items that come pre-packaged, but there weren’t many of those today.) Instead he picks up his phone and glances at the screen, surprised to see a few new messages from Lance.

_He’s not giving up yet?_

Nervous, Keith opens his home screen, taps on the Garrison messaging system, and waits for it to load. Lance’s name pops up in the menu screen above Acxa’s, and he taps on it impatiently while the school wifi buffers.

_11:31 am_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Don’t say that you’re nobody!_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Who are you really?_

Keith shakes his head, scoffing pitifully at himself. He’d meant to cheer Lance up, and instead he’d made it all about himself. Figures.

He types out a quick reply anyway, just in case. Besides, it would probably be rude to leave it off like this.

_11:36 am_

_unknown: it doesn’t matter_

_unknown: i just wanted to help_

He sends the messages and sets his phone down, ready to face the school’s lasagna, when he’s interrupted by a commotion on the other side of the cafeteria. Keith stands up quickly, trying to get a better view, but the crowd has already swarmed what appears to be a tussle breaking out--near Pidge’s lunch table?

Heart beating a little faster, Keith makes his way to the outskirts of the crowd. He hears someone--one of the stoners, he thinks--say “you asked for it” and then there’s a loud and collective gasp from the onlookers.

“Hey!”

A familiar tuft of white hair against a black buzz cut makes its way forcefully through the crowd a few feet to Keith’s left, just barely visible amongst the other heads. He stands on his toes to see what Shiro will do about the fight, but before his favorite teacher can reach the center of the mass of students, another voice rings out amongst the ruckus.

“Everybody, move!”

The voice is commandingly powerful, definitely British, and strong enough to shatter a boulder. The crowd parts, and Keith steps to the side just in time as the English teacher Allura Boatema comes barreling through. She storms to the center of the now frozen group, plants her hands on her hips, and surveys the surroundings.

Now that the crowd has stopped moving around, Keith has a better view of what’s going on. On one side of the crowd, a guy with a bad dye job and aviator goggles (really?) is looking not at all ashamed and holding a hand to his shoulder as if he’s been hit. On the other, a shockingly familiar figure is hunched over, one arm wrapped around his stomach and the other hand pressed to his eye.

_Lance?_

“Fighting is strictly prohibited on school grounds!” Allura thunders. “What on earth were you two thinking?!”

“I’ll kill you,” Lance seethes, his eyes flashing dangerously as he glares across the circle. The other guy looks just as angry.

“God, you’re a loser,” he grumbles, hands balling into fists at his sides. “I should have known you’d be just like-”

Lance groan-roars and staggers towards him, only to be stopped by Shiro. Allura takes the other guy firmly by the arm. Keith is sure that he can’t squirm away even if he tries--he’d witnessed firsthand how strong Allura is when she dealt with the group of drunk juniors trying to provoke a fight in the halls last semester.

“Both of you should know better!” she exclaims, glaring at first Lance, then the stoner-looking guy. “Come on, we’re going to the office.”

“Allura,” Shiro interjects, “I think Lance should go see the nurse. His eye’s already bruising.”

Allura glares for a second like she wants to argue, but sighs in defeat when she sees that, in fact, the skin around Lance’s eye _is_ turning purplish. “Fine,” she says resignedly, “but he’s still going to have to report to the principal later.”

“Later,” Shiro agrees, supporting most of Lance’s weight on his shoulder and turning away. Pidge and Hunk trail after nervously.

“Everybody, back to your lunches!” Allura commands, surveying the crowd. “I don’t want any more violence here. Got it?”

Everyone either nods or looks away. She can be scary when she wants to be.

Keith turns and heads back to his table, pulling out his phone as soon as he’s close. Screw trying to act casual. He’s _worried_.

_11:42 am_

_unknown: holy shit, are you okay?_

_unknown: who the fuck was that guy?_

_unknown: why was he beating you up?_

To his surprise, a response comes almost immediately.

_11:42 am_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: You don’t know?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: That was Rolo_

_unknown: rolo like the caramel?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I think technically it’s a chocolate_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: But yeah_

_unknown: what did he want?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: He’s a chismoso, probably wanted some new gossip_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I guess he hit me up for a new story_

_unknown: why?_

_unknown: you don’t need to tell me_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Well, it’s a little embarrassing_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Give me some time_

_unknown: okay_

_unknown: how’s your face?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Hurts like hell and it’s not pretty either_

_unknown: huh_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: And trust me, I’m a really pretty guy_

_unknown: yeah_

_unknown: anything major?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Maybe a black eye, but I can’t tell yet_

_unknown: hope it’s not_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Yeah, me too_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: So…_

_unknown: ?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Are you gonna tell me who you are?_

_unknown: i’d rather not_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Aww, why not?_

_unknown: i’m really awkward_

_unknown: it’s bad_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: And you think I’m not?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: You should tell me who you are so we can hang out_

_unknown: i don’t think thats a good idea_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: That way you can see for yourself how awkward I am_

_unknown: you’re not awkward, lance_

_unknown: you’re cool_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Well thanks_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: The nurse is here so I have to get off my phone_

_unknown: okay, get better soon_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Thanks :)_

Keith pauses for a second, waiting, but when nothing else comes he turns his phone off and shoves it in his pocket. He’d actually managed a real conversation with Lance. That was… definitely something. Not the way he’d expected it to go, but not unpleasant at all.

The reality of what he’s done starts sinking in, and he buries his face in his hands. Lance _wants to know who he is_. He’s _curious_ about Unknown. Keith pictures the disappointment on his face when he realizes that he’s just a quiet nobody. Pidge would probably stop talking to him if she knew, and Hunk and Matt would never even bother to start. And right then and there, he makes a decision:

He can’t ever reveal himself as Unknown. Not to Lance, or to anyone. Everyone would think he was a creep, or an obsessive stalker. They’d get the wrong idea, they’d start spreading rumors, and he’d be labeled for the rest of his high school career.

And he hadn’t meant to take it this far, he really hadn’t. It was supposed to stop after the first few messages--more of a one-way thing than an actual conversation, like a note in a locker. Again, he berates himself for not doing just that.

It wasn’t supposed to turn into whatever _this_ is. (At least, that’s what he keeps telling himself.)

He’s used to being ignored here, or treated as disposable, as if he’s too out of place to bother remembering. Maybe it’s from all the bad people he’s had to work with for school projects or team-building exercises, but his time at the Garrison hasn’t been so great socially. But Lance had actually _responded_ and Keith’s not about to start ignoring him. There’s no way he can back out now, not after this.

He is so, so screwed.

A second lunch tray clatters down next to his, and then Acxa is sliding into the chair on his right. “What’s up?” she asks.

“Same as usual.” Which is to say, nothing at all, but Keith doesn’t mention that part. “What’s up with you?”

Acxa frowns, looking around the lunch room before turning back to him. “Did you see that guy? Do you know about him?”

“Who, Lance?” Keith asks, looking towards the door even though he knows Lance is long gone.

“No, the other one. Caramel boy.”

“Rolo?”

“Yeah. Can you promise me you’ll stay away from him?”

“Huh?” Keith blinks in surprise. “Sure, I can do that. Why?”

Acxa rolls her eyes. “He’s not exactly a model student. He’s a liar and a manipulative jerk. Last year, something really bad happened to a girl around my age, and after he wrote about it on his gossip blog, she started spiraling. It kept getting worse and worse, and then she disappeared a month later.”

“She never came back?” Keith asks, frowning.

“No,” Acxa says. “Nobody’s even heard anything from her, but she’s still got friends here. And unfortunately, Rolo’s still here, too.”

“Has he ever written about you?”

Acxa rolls her eyes and mutters something that sounds like “Princes”. Then, at a regular volume, she says, “I’m a senior, Keith. Been here since before he transferred. He’s written at least three articles involving me.”

“Anything really bad?”

She shakes her head. “Not really. Mostly he just makes stuff up about my friends, how we’re all part of some weird secret society and that’s why we always sit together at lunch. It’s like he’s never heard of the concept of friends.”

“Secret society?” Keith asks.

“Yeah, he says it’s some type of super exclusive cult. Actually, he just put out a story at the beginning of the year about Ezor joining in. Apparently she fits all of our secret qualifications.”

“Why does he make all that stuff up?” Keith asks, although he can already half-guess the answer. Acxa and her friends aren’t exactly a group of normal high schoolers. He’s only met Zethrid and Narti, but from what he can tell, each one of them carry themselves with a kind of immunity. Like the Heathers from _Heathers_. They’ve each got their own strengths, as well: Zethrid is physically strong, Narti is incredibly book smart, and Acxa never lets anything get in her way.

“Apparently we’re a threat to the way he’s got the school under his thumb,” Acxa says. “It’s kind of ridiculous. Everyone’s practically terrified of him because of his blog, so it’s best to just stay clear of him. He’s trouble, and you’re a good kid, and I don’t want you to to get caught up in his stuff.”

“Got it.” Keith nods, trying to look like a good kid. Acxa eyes him for a second, then snorts.

“I heard your friend Pidge’s brother was invited to that party, which means she might be going,” Acxa says. “You should come, too.”

Keith shakes his head, not mentioning that he and Pidge aren’t exactly close friends, either. “I have homework,” he says.

“You get all your homework done in Study Skills,” Acxa points out. “Come on, come with me to the party and… meet people, or something.”

“Why do you want me to go so badly?” Keith snaps, glaring. He’s being unreasonable, he knows, but he’d thought that Acxa would know when to stop asking about it by now. They’ve known each other since the beginning of summer, haven’t they?

“I just…” Acxa looks a little lost on what to say. She frowns, shakes her head and tries again. “It’s high school, Keith. You shouldn’t spend all your free time sitting at home in the dark.”

“What, did Sarah put you up to this or something?” He glares even harder.

“You can call her ‘Mom’, you know,” Acxa says, glaring back. They’re both getting defensive--probably one of the most similar things about them is their temper.

“The first time dad introduced her to me he said to call her Sarah.”

“Well, it’s fine if you stop doing that.”

“I know,” Keith grunts, standing up and grabbing his tray. He hasn’t touched his food at all, but right now it looks like the most unappetizing stuff on the planet.

He spins on his heel and strides away, ignoring Acxa and trying his best not to look like he’s stomping. He dumps the contents into the trash can (because who wants to eat cold lasagna, anyway?) and drops the plastic tray on top of the stack already forming at the top. (They’re not supposed to stack trays on the top of the trash cans, but as far as he’s concerned he’s not even a student at this school, so rules don’t apply to him.)

He storms down the hallway, about to straight-up walk out of the school. Screw his GPA, his perfect attendance, everything. It doesn’t matter to him right now. There’s nothing for him here and nobody to care enough to make him stay, so what’s the point?

He used to talk to his mom when things would get tough. It’s not like they were best friends--he definitely wasn’t one of those kids that told her everything that went on in his life--but sometimes he’d sit next to her on her bed and she’d stroke his hair and tell him stories about her day at the lab, and everything would feel a little better. She knew when to ask him if he wanted to talk and when to leave him alone, never pushing more than he needed her to.

He misses her. But he doesn’t want to think about that right now.

A buzz in his pocket pulls him back to reality, and he glances around quickly before pulling his phone out. He stares at the screen uncomprehendingly for a few seconds, frowning in confusion. Why is Lance messaging him _first_? Doesn’t he have better people to talk to?

Keith shakes his head, his anger dissolving as he opens the message.

_11:51 am_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: So if you changed your name to unknown does that mean that you’ve messaged other people as unknown too?_

Keith blinks, then slaps his palm against his forehead. _Why hadn’t he thought of that?_ Lance isn’t _dumb_ , of course he’d start figuring it out eventually. This is just… a lot sooner than expected.

_11:52 am_

_unknown: well, not really_

_unknown: i’m new so i don’t really use the messenger much_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Really?_

_unknown: yep_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I feel special now_

_unknown: must be that head injury_

His head is ducked and he’s mostly focused on the conversation, so he doesn’t see the other figure walking down the hall until they’re inches in front of each other. He swerves to avoid bumping into them, and still manages to clip their shoulder with his own.

“Sorry!” he calls out on instinct, then clamps a hand over his mouth because that’s _Lance Fuentes_ with ice pressed to his eye with one hand, a phone in his other. Lance looks up, turns around, and shoots Keith a small smile.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, then gestures to his face. “I’ve had worse than a bump to the shoulder.”

Keith’s hand is still pressed over his mouth and he feels like an idiot. He drops it and stutters out something incomprehensible and painfully quiet.

“Hey, you should have seen the other guy.” Lance winks (what the _fuck_ ) and turns back around, continuing the way he was going. Keith’s eyes are blown wide. He stands there for a full minute before he realizes that his phone is still on and facing straight up at waist height in his hand. Perfectly in Lance’s line of vision.

“Fuck!” he hisses, snapping it up to his chest despite Lance being long gone. _Why why why is he an idiot?_

He looks around the deserted hallway, making sure that nobody else is near, then moves the phone away from his chest and glances down at the screen. There are several messages from Lance.

_11:54 am_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Ughhh you’re right_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Well not about the feeling special part_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: That’s all from you_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: But my head hurts_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Like a lot_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Don’t really want to be here but they won’t let me go home unless my parents come_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: And they’re working pretty hard so I don’t want to bother them_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Am I annoying you right now or did you just get abducted and drop your phone?_

_unknown: sorry, distracted_

_unknown: you’re like the only one who talks to me, so you’re not annoying_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Ooh_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: My little heart can’t take this_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I’m flattered_

_unknown: i regret this so much_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Why do you hurt me like this_

_unknown: mffh that’s not what i meant_

_unknown: oh god i’m so awkward i’m sorry_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Hey, it’s okay_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I’m awkward too_

_unknown: no you’re not_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: You should come hang out with us_

_unknown: no_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Then you can witness the awkwardness first hand_

_unknown: no_

_unknown: nooope_

_unknown: no way_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Pleeease_

_unknown: no, people are loud and mean_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I’m not mean lol_

_unknown: but you’re intimidating_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Nah_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Class is starting so I should go_

_unknown: yeah, me too_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Talk later!_

Keith stares at his phone for another minute, just reading their conversation over, before he realizes that he actually _does_ have to go to class. He gives one last wistful look towards the door before turning back the way he came. He’s not going to ditch. That won’t do him any favors and it will just inconvenience everyone else, so instead he just grabs his things from the floor and heads to class.

The Garrison runs on an A/B schedule, with four different classes each day. It’s an A day, so he has Geometry, which he’s usually excited about because he has it with Lance and his friends and none of the jerks in their grade. Well, Pidge isn’t in it because of her advanced schedule, but Hunk is.

It takes him a few minutes to get to the third floor, and by the time he does about half the class is already there. Keith takes his seat next to the window, waiting for the bell to ring. He stretches, trying to get himself into a working mood, and proceeds to knock several of his pens and papers onto the ground.

“Idiot,” he groans quietly, hitting his head against his desk. He half-slides to the floor and looks around under his desk.

_There’s nothing here?_

A hand appears in front of his face, holding a red pen and two mechanical pencils. “Looking for these?”

Keith glances up. A senior boy he somewhat recognizes looks down at him coolly, still holding out his hand. He’s got blackish brown eyes and tan, even skin, and his black hair falls in a silky smooth curtain down his back. Keith’s pretty sure he’s the one who’d been watching him in the science lab earlier in the week.

“Thanks,” Keith says, reaching out to take his belongings. The boy grabs his hand instead and pulls him to his feet, depositing the pens in his hand along the way.

“No problem,” he says, voice confident and unwavering. Keith breaks eye contact and sits back down at his desk.

“I’m Lotor,” the guy says, and _oh yeah_ , his name is Lotor. That’s the other reason why Keith remembers him--He’s in Acxa’s super-exclusive group of friends, along with three other girls. Lotor’s never been around their house like Zethrid and Narti, but Acxa’s mentioned his name several times when the others were over.

“Keith,” he replies.

“Aren’t you in my History class?” Lotor asks, sounding like he already knows the answer. “Fifth period?”

“Yeah, I guess.” He _is_ in fifth period History--it’s just that he doesn’t pay much attention to who’s in his classes and who’s not.

Lotor nods decisively. “You’re Acxa’s brother, right?”

“Step-brother. My dad remarried.”

Keith watches him tap his fingers against his desk, thinking. “She mentioned you last week. Is it true you were in a fight club at your old school?”

Keith stares down at his assortment of school supplies, praying for the bell to ring. “It was kickboxing, and I wasn’t very good,” he says with a shrug. “Why?”

“I was only asking for curiosity’s sake. Forgive me for being invasive.”

“It’s fine,” Keith says, because he doesn’t want to be rude to one of Acxa’s friends. _This is his strength_ , he thinks. _He’s an observer,_ and _he’s good with words. No wonder Rolo feels threatened._

The bell rings, loud and shrill, and Lotor turns back towards the door. “I should get to my class, but it was nice to officially meet you, Keith. I hope we can get to know each other more in the future.”

Keith glances back up at Lotor, already walking away, then looks towards the door. Lance is standing half inside the classroom, staring at the space between them with a pained expression on his face that kind of perfectly mirrors what Keith’s feeling right now, because no, he wasn’t staring at _them_. He’s only looking at Lotor.

“Come on,” Hunk says gently from beside him. “Sulk later. Let’s just get to our desks.”

Keith sinks down low in his chair and miserably watches as Lance mopes about Lotor until the end of class. He scratches little scribble clusters down on his note paper, and tries to feel less empty.

* * *

 

_3:19 pm_

_Acxa: Keith, is this you?_

_unknown: Fuck_

_unknown: Yes_

_unknown: It’s for a project_

_unknown: It’s a social experiment_

_unknown: I can explain_

_unknown: Don’t tell anyone_

_Acxa: Calm down, I won’t._

_Acxa: Care to tell me what the experiment is?_

_unknown: It’s nothing_

_Acxa: Are you sure?_

_unknown: Yeah_

Keith stares down at his phone, guilt already settling into his stomach as he types out the rest of the message. He doesn’t want to lie to Acxa. She’s been cool to him, introducing him to Narti and Zethrid when they’d come over before, asking if he wants to come hang out with her friends after school. Even though what he’d said had technically been the truth, it still seems like a lie.

 _But Acxa doesn’t need anything else to worry about_ , he tells himself as he sends the excuse.

_3:20 pm_

_unknown: My friends and I are seeing how long it takes for someone to notice my name_

_unknown: You know, cause I’m new_

_Acxa: I guess that’s not a bad thing_

_Acxa: You know the faculty can see your full account though, right?_

_Acxa: Someone could report you if they thought you were up to something._

_unknown: I got it, thanks_

Keith shakes his head. _If only she knew._ He changes the subject quickly.

_unknown: I met Lotor earlier_

_Acxa: That’s right, he’s been asking to meet you._

_Acxa: I bet Rolo will write an article about us trying to “recruit” you_

_unknown: Can’t wait_

He pockets his phone and stares down the road, watching for the bus. He and Acxa live a good twenty minute ride away, but Acxa has student council and won’t be home for at least another forty minutes. Keith usually volunteers at the library after school, but today it’s reserved for the middle school science fair or bake sale or something, so he has no excuse to stay late.

“Hey.”

Keith doesn’t look up at first, but when a pair of battered greenish-brown work boots appear in his line of vision, he does. Hunk stands in front of him, hands hooked around the straps of his backpack, and for a split second Keith wonders if he’s already been found out.

 _Don’t be stupid_ , he thinks to himself. _It’s only been a day._

“Keith, right?” Hunk asks, smiling warmly.

 _Is that everybody’s opening line around here?_ he wonders, thinking back to when Pidge had said the exact same thing to him. “Yeah,” he says.

“Sorry, I don’t know if you know me or not.” Hunk’s smile turns apologetic as he holds out his hand. “Hunk Suega. I think you’re in a few of my classes.”

“Yeah,” Keith says again. He and Hunk have every A day class together, but none of their B day classes.

“I didn’t know you took my bus, man,” Hunk says, gesturing to the bus stop. “Normally I have robotics, so I don’t go home this early, but it was cancelled because our supervisor’s out of town.”

“Normally I volunteer at the library,” Keith mumbles.

“That’s right, Pidge told me about that. You were there yesterday, weren’t you?”

He nods. “It’s closed today, though.”

“Well, what time do you usually leave? If we get out at the same time, maybe we can take the bus together in the future.”

“Four thirty,” Keith replies automatically. “But you don’t have to-”

“We get out at four fifteen, but Pidge and I usually wait around until her ride comes, so I catch the four thirty-five most days.”

Keith usually misses the four thirty-five and takes the four fifty instead, but he doesn’t mention that to Hunk.

“So, you’re new to the school, right?” Hunk asks, turning back curiously.

Keith looks away. “Yeah, this is my first year.”

“How are you liking it so far?”

As much as he wants to say _not at all_ , Hunk seems like a genuinely nice guy from what Keith has seen, and he doesn’t want to go and bash Hunk’s school. As far as Keith knows, Hunk’s been coming here since middle school, and he’s never shown any signs of not liking it.

“It’s pretty cool,” he says with a shrug. “I like Shiro’s classes.”

Hunk laughs, shaking his head. “Man, I should have talked to you earlier. You seem pretty cool for an emo dude with a mullet.”

“I’m not _emo_ ,” Keith grumbles. Hunk ignores him.

“So, what’s your messenger name? Pidge says it’s probably, like, Emo-Mullet-Kid-Rawr-XD-13, but I feel like that’s going a little far.”

Keith stiffens. “I don’t have a phone,” he blurts, then actually _physically_ hits himself in the face. _Idiot._ “I mean, I don’t use the Garrison messenger very much. At all. I got- I got logged out of my account and I don’t remember the password.”

Blatant lies. He remembers every password he’s ever set--they’re all the same. But at least his stuttering can be played off as embarrassment.

“I did that once,” Hunk says, thankfully not questioning him any further, although he does look at Keith strangely. “You can just send an email to one of the tech people at school and they can reset it for you.”

“Oh,” Keith says. “Okay, thanks.”

Hunk glances down the street, then pulls his student ID out of his wallet. Keith does the same as the bus pulls up.

He waits for everybody else to board, flashes his ID to the bus driver, then takes his usual place by the window in the second row facing forward. Hunk is sitting on the opposite side in the first row, earbuds in, nodding along to his music. Keith wonders--not for the first time--how any student of the hellspawn school that is the Garrison can be _happy_ at any point in time, but it seems that most of them are.

He sighs, pulls out his own earbuds and phone, and is just unlocking it when a new message comes through.

_3:26 pm_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: You know, you could always just tell me who you are_

_unknown: why would i do that?_

_unknown: i’m an awkward internet coward_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Oh, come on, if you were a coward you wouldn’t have messaged me_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: And trust me, Hunk and Pidge and I are all plenty awkward_

_unknown: i doubt that_

_unknown: new subject, please_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: So, are you a guy or a girl?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Or nonbinary_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Or genderqueer_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I mean, what do you identify as?_

_unknown: what do i seem like?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I don’t like to assume people’s genders_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: But regardless, you seem really cool_

_unknown: yeah, right_

_unknown: you’re the cool one_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Untrue, you’re very cool_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Thanks for asking if I’m okay :)_

Keith’s heart beats a little faster in his chest. He presses his hand to his mouth and tries to smother his smile.

 _Thanks for making life bearable_ , he doesn’t write back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once again for the support! I'm really proud of this fic and I love the way it turned out, so it makes me really happy to see that people are enjoying it as well. Reading your comments is one of the best parts of my day :)  
> I hope you continue to enjoy Unknown!  
> (also lance and keith will interact in real life soon i swear just give it time it's a slow burn.)  
> [Pepple's artwork for this chapter!](http://pepplemint.tumblr.com/post/167420630995/as-usual-i-am-late-but-the-next-two-chapters-of)


	4. Lance

“He’s a guy!”

Pidge levels Lance with an apathetic stare, then scribbles something down on a piece of paper. She holds it up to his face with a monotone “Congratulations.”

The paper has _It’s a boy!_ written in sloppy handwriting, surrounded by crappy balloons and squiggly streamers.

“Did he tell you?” Hunk asks as Lance unlocks his locker and throws his books and binders in. He and Pidge have Modern World History first, but Hunk and Matt have Physics, so they like to hang out in the halls before class starts, since their lockers are pretty close to each other’s.

“Yeah, he told me after school,” he says. “I would have messaged you, but Violeta had me helping her with her bake sale clean up, and then I had to work on my _own_ homework, and then it was dinner and then we had a family game night, and-”

“We get it, you were busy,” Pidge says. “So, that narrows the list of suspects down by like, half. Do you know how old he is?”

“If he shares classes with you, he’s probably in our grade,” Hunk points out. “Do you know anything about his schedule? I mean, we could track him down.”

“It’s a big school,” Matt says, looking up from his phone for the first time since Lance had walked in. “I’m sure there’s at least one other person who has the same schedule as your mystery guy.”

“But we can narrow it down based off how much stuff we know about him,” Pidge points out. “Let’s make a list. What do we know so far?”

“He’s a guy,” Hunk says. Pidge pulls out a sheet of lined paper and clicks her pen, writing it down next to a bullet point.

“New to the school,” Lance adds. “Also he’s antisocial, and he doesn’t use the messenger much.”

“But you don’t know any of his classes or anything?” Matt asks.

“No. I could ask him, but I don’t think he’d tell me.” Lance snaps his fingers. “Oh, and he’s like super insecure and stuff. Also he thinks that Rolos are caramels.”

“Wait, aren’t they?” Hunk asks. Lance turns to stare at him incredulously.

“Oh my god, Hunk, _acere_ ,” he says. “I knew you were too good to be true. Rolos are _chocolates_.”

“Seriously?”

“Does it matter?” Pidge asks, still writing. Matt shakes his head in disappointment.

“Oh, my sad, delusional sibling,” he sighs dramatically. “Of course it matters. Hunk and Unknown are very obviously wrong.”

“I don’t see how they’re chocolates,” Hunk says. “They’re mostly caramel.”

“Cherry truffles are more cherry than truffle, but you don’t call cherry truffles cherries!” Lance exclaims. “They’re called truffles, which are chocolates!”

“But you don’t call chocolate-covered almonds chocolates,” Pidge argues.

“Hey, I thought you were neutral on this!”

“I am! I just don’t see the validity of your argument.”

“Shiro!” Matt yells, slamming his hand against his forehead with so much force he actually winces. “Why didn’t I think of it before? We can ask Shiro to search for an Unknown profile. He’s a teacher, so he has access to that stuff.”

“Of course!” Lance exclaims. “He can see Unknown’s full profile, and then he can tell me who it is!”

“No he can’t,” Pidge says.

“What? Why not?”

“It’s a violation of the messenger code of conduct for Shiro or any of the staff members to reveal personal information regarding somebody’s profile to people like us. He’s only allowed to break rules if somebody reports an account that’s threatening them or making them feel unsafe.”

“Why do you know all of that?” Hunk asks.

“I’ve been looking into applying to be a messenger monitor next year,” she explains. “Shiro gave me his rulebook to look over.”

“There’s a rulebook?” Lance scoffs. “That’s dumb.”

“I bet we could get one of the monitors to break the rules if we bribe or threaten him,” Matt says. “Like Lance’s ex, Mae.”

“How would we bribe her?” Pidge asks. “ _She_ broke up with _him_. It’s not like we’ve got anything that she wants, either.”

“Thanks,” Lance says sarcastically.

“As interesting as this conversation is…” Hunk sighs, turning his phone on to check the time, “I should get to class. I don’t want to be late.”

“Okay, buddy,” Lance says, patting him on the shoulder. “Pidge, let’s get going, too.”

“Hunk, wait up!” Matt grabs his bag off the ground and stands, stretching.

“I’ll see you guys later,” Hunk says, waving as they head towards the staircase. Lance waves back.

“Come on, I don’t want to be late,” Pidge says, slinging her backpack over her shoulder. “Maybe Coran will assign Lotor to be your partner for some new, two-month-long project that requires a lot of work and unexplained physical contact.”

“Sure,” Lance scoffs. “I wish.”

“Oh my god, I was _kidding_ Lance, you are _so_ gross.”

“Yeah, yeah, so I’ve heard. Not like you’re not the same with Alana.”

His phone buzzes in his pocket as they take their seats. Pidge raises a suspicious eyebrow at him but says nothing. Lance glances at the screen, then unlocks it and opens the Garrison messenger.

“It’s him,” he says, shaking his head. “We were talking earlier, on the way to school.”

“Ask him what class he has next,” Pidge prompts, opening her binder and pulling out some note paper.

“I doubt he’d tell me,” Lance says, shoulders sagging a little. “I’ll ask him which grade he’s in instead.”

“What if he’s in _this_ class?” Pidge glances around the room. “I mean, it could really be anybody. We don’t have that much to go on.”

“He’s probably not in this class,” Lance says doubtfully, although he keeps his voice quiet.

“I mean, unless he’s a freshman or a senior, he’s probably gonna be in one of the history classes or in Physics,” she points out. “Me being an exception, of course. Plus there are hardly any juniors in here since they’ve got their own history classes. So if he’s a sophomore, there’s a good chance. Ask him which grade he’s in.”

“I’m working on it.” Lance looks back down at his phone, where there are two new messages from Unknown.

_8:11 am_

_unknown: okay, but i thought that hunk was your boyfriend for like the first half of the first semester_

_unknown: is that weird?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: How did you even know I was bi?_

_unknown: well i thought you were gay since you went around on national coming out day and told everyone in multiple classes that you were, and i quote, gay as fuck_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Fair point_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I met Hunk in second grade_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: We never really tried to date or anything_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: But like if I hadn’t seen him go through his awkward 11 year old phase_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I’d totally date him_

_unknown: fair_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I mean he is a god amongst men_

“Lance!”

“What?”

Pidge huffs in annoyance. “You said that you would ask him.”

“Why do you care?”

“I’m invested. Your life is now my life.”

“Pidge, what the fuck. You’re a creep.”

_8:13 am_

_unknown: god is female_

_unknown: have you seen Stephanie Beatriz?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Fair enough_

_unknown: i don’t know if i can say that without being creepy or something because she’s like ten years older than me but???_

_unknown: i mean, i didn’t mean that the way it came out_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Speaking of age_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: How old are you?_

_unknown: i’m the age of an average high school student_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: But what grade?_

_unknown: you must know that i’m not going to tell you_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Are you a junior?_

_unknown: no_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Are you a sophomore_

_unknown: no_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Freshman?_

_unknown: no_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Senior?_

_unknown: no_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: You’re really not gonna tell me, huh_

_unknown: nope_

“He’s not gonna tell me what grade he’s in,” Lance announces, then turns around and promptly drops his phone into his lap. “Pidge, what the fuck? Personal space!”

Pidge, who’s been leaning over his shoulder and reading, frowns back at him. “I’ve seen you literally drape yourself across Hunk. Since when do you care about personal space?” He’s about to snap something back, but she continues. “Anyway, that means he’s _definitely_ either in History or Physics, so that narrows our options down by a lot.”

“How can you tell?”

“Intuition. Seniors don’t have time for stuff like this, juniors don’t care about us, and no freshmen that I know fit the bill from what I can tell.”

“Well then why did you have me ask?”

“In case he gave something else away, duh.”

“You’re being kind of awesomely creepy about this,” Lance says, almost in admiration, picking up his phone. Pidge frowns.

“Aren’t you curious about him? Don’t you want to know who he is?”

“Of course I do! But I’m sure he’ll tell me eventually, once he trusts me.”

Her frown deepens. “Yeah, but Lance, do you trust _him_? All we know for sure is that he’s a part of this school. He could be catfishing you. I could be wrong; it could even be _Rolo_ , trying to get some information out of you about… you know.”

“What? Lotor?” Lance lowers his voice. “He already knows about that. Everyone does.”

“No, no. Not about Lotor.” Pidge looks away, playing with her fingers uncomfortably. “You know, _her_.”

“Oh.” Lance deflates. “Right.”

She starts backtracking. “I doubt that it’s him, though. That was a stupid thing to say. I mean, he already knows everything about it, so why would he even need to-”

“ _Pidge_ ,” Lance huffs. “Let’s just forget it, okay? I won’t tell him anything I wouldn’t tell a stranger, at least until I know more about him.”

“And Hunk and Matt and I will help you figure out who he is in the meantime,” she promises. “Sorry for, uh, you know. I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s… I’m not gonna say it’s fine, because nothing about that situation will _ever_ be fine,” Lance says. “But you didn’t do anything wrong, so don’t apologize.”

The bell rings, and a few students file into the classroom. Mr. Coran runs in after them, almost falling over as he reaches his desk, and Lance is glad for the distraction. (He doesn’t want to think about _that_ , not now, not ever.)

“Right-o! We’re all here on time, so let’s get started!”

“We’re missing half the class,” Lance whispers to Pidge, looking around at the empty seats.

Class passes pretty quickly. They go through some videos on the Mexican Revolution from the test from last week so that re-takers can study what they need to, and then Coran plays a few Mexican _corridos_ about Zapata and Villa. He makes them all learn the words to one, which Lance has no trouble with.

“Show-off,” Pidge mutters when he recites them all perfectly.

“It’s not my fault,” Lance says. “Plus, Cuban Spanish is a lot different from Mexican Spanish, so I’m learning, too.”

They’re interrupted when Coran claps his hands three times.

“Okay, on to the next thing! Everybody, I need you all to get into pairs, okay?” He pulls a few sheets of _bright green_ note paper from his folder and stares at them contemplatively. “Scratch that. I’ll put you all in groups of three, okay?”

“What for?” some kid calls from the back.

“It’s for our final assessment project, of course! Revolutions!” Coran turns to the whiteboard and writes the word in large, pink letters. “I’ll group you up because, to be quite honest, I only trust a few of you. Mostly Pidge.”

“Hell yeah!” Pidge yells, pumping her fist into the air. Lance rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, we know, you’re perfect at everything,” he whispers to her.

“Hey, I’ve got more depth than that!”

“I’ll explain more on the project next class, but for the time being you should just focus on picking a revolution to study, okay? Now, for groups…”

“Please, god, I’ll actually go on a murderous rampage if I have to work with some lazy asses who make me do all the actual work.”

Lance sighs. “Just put me out of my misery. What happened to Cool Coran? He let us choose our own partners at the beginning of the year.”

“That was before you and I made a whole presentation on the United Kingdom that was literally just a long rant about them spelling ‘color’ and ‘flavor’ wrong.”

Lance snorts. “Oh, right. Why did we do that, again?”

“There are extra vowels, Lance! Vowels are the glue of words! If you put too much glue on something it falls apart! They’re destroying the English language!”

“Lance Fuentes, Pidge Gunderson-Holt, and Shay Tsai, the three of you will work together!” Coran announces.

“Oh thank god,” Pidge sighs as Lance melts in relief. Shay is a hard worker, and she’s also really nice and cool, plus she and Hunk were eighth grade sweethearts, so they already know each other pretty well.

“Mae Plaxum, Lotor Tuan, and Keith Yeun.”

Pidge grins. “Ah, yes! Now we can recruit Keith to spy for us.”

“No. Absolutely not. Not a _single_ other person needs to know about this.” Lance glares at Pidge, hopefully in a way that comes off as threatening. If her expression is anything to go by, it’s not.

“Come on, it’s _Keith_! We can trust him.”

“But it’s _embarrassing_ ,” Lance practically whines.

“Shh! Coran’s talking again.”

The two of them turn their attention back to the front of the room, where Coran has finished listing off partners.

“As I mentioned before, the three of you will be doing a twenty to thirty minute presentation on the revolution of your choice as the first half of the project. The second part will be more...interesting, to say the least, but I’ll keep it a surprise for now.”

Lance sighs. As much as he appreciates Pidge and Shay’s company, he’d really wanted to be on Lotor’s team for the project. He knows that other people would tease him, and that he’d probably be an awkward mess, but there was still that moment of hope in his heart that maybe they’d get a chance to work together.

“I need you all to talk with each other at some point in person or on the messenger, and come to me with a revolution you want to study. And if anyone complains about their partners,” he adds menacingly, “I’ll know. Trust me.”

Lance looks around. Nobody seems particularly nervous about the mention of the messenger. Friends and groupmates are whispering among themselves excitedly.

“Which one is Keith, again?” he asks. Pidge points to a boy one seat in front and one seat to the right of him. He’s got black hair and dark clothes and he’s doing that thing that all students do at one point or another where they rest their head on their arms on the desk and half fall asleep.

“He’s new this year,” Pidge explains. “Didn’t go to the middle school, didn’t come to the Garrison for freshman year. I think he kind of hates it here.”

“Don’t we all,” Lance snorts. “He’s the one you were yelling to yesterday at lunch?”

“Obviously. It’s not like there’s another Keith at this school.”

“You never know.” Lance wrinkles his nose, still watching Keith out of the corner of his eye. “Does he have a mullet? Who has a mullet anymore?”

“You’re one to judge,” Pidge mutters.

“Hey! What are you implying about my hair? I don’t just wake up like this, you know.”

Pidge is about to throw some type of sassy remark over her shoulder, probably about hair products bringing the end of humanity, but the school bell rings in time to save him.

“Come on, Physics next,” Lance says, unceremoniously sweeping his pens and books into his bag. “We’ve got egg drop stuff to do.”

Pidge is determined to beat Hunk at the school’s egg drop competition this year, since he’s the proud four-time winner and never misses an opportunity to mock her about it. She even agreed to partner with Lance for “an extra challenge”, which he took offense to. (But hey, winning is winning, and he has complete faith in her.)

“I want to prove that I can beat him, even with a lazy partner and only the bare minimum of materials,” she explains for the fifth time as they walk to the science classroom.

“Hey, I’m not lazy!” Lance protests. “I’m a hard worker, I just have a very specific process.”

“You’re right, you’re right. Sorry, I’m in competitive mode right now.” Pushing her glasses up her nose, Pidge turns down the flight of stairs to the basement. The gym, Spanish rooms, Art studios, and Science lab are all on the lowest floor of the Garrison, meaning that they’re always a little cold and drafty and less than ideal to spend an hour and a half in.

“I’m telling you, though, I really think we’ve got him beat. Matt says that Hunk’s design is pretty heavy, and ours is light as a feather. Going by Newton’s second law, we’ve got a much better chance of keeping John Eggbert alive.”

“I fucking hate that you named our egg John Eggbert,” Lance says, not for the first time. “He doesn’t even exist yet.”

“But when he does, you’re allowed to draw the face on him,” Pidge reminds him. “That was the deal.”

“Taking advantage of my incredible art skills, huh?”

“You mean your ability to make a simple cartoon character even more simple and cartoon-y? Sure.”

Lance takes his seat at the back of the front left table, Pidge sitting on his other side with her phone in her hands already. She’s probably trash-talking Hunk again. Lance almost feels bad--she can be _really_ scary when it comes to competition.

He glances around the mostly empty classroom, watching students from fifth period leave and students from sixth period take their socially-assigned-but-not-actually-assigned seats around the classroom, when the dark mullet from earlier catches his attention.

Keith is sitting at the opposing table from them, typing something on his phone. Lance doesn’t look too hard (because privacy matters, despite what most high schoolers think) and instead turns his attention back to Pidge.

“Does he always sit alone?” he asks. She shrugs, semi-absorbed in her own phone.

“Keith? Yeah, I think he hates everyone here. At the very least he hates being here, you know, but he’s also got some sort of social thing going on.”

“Social thing like Hunk’s anxiety or like you before you came out?”

Pidge hums. “Kind of like me when I was in the closet, only I don’t think it’s really the same for him.”

“Huh.” Lance leans back in his chair, deliberating for a good span of two, three seconds before he shouts, “Hey, Keith!” across the room.

Keith looks up, then turns to face him. His eyes go wide for a second before his eyebrows draw together in a frown. He looks genuinely confused as to why somebody knows who he is, which makes Lance feel bad for not noticing him before.

“Um,” he says, “yes?”

“I’m Lance. You know my friend Pidge, right?”

Keith frowns at Pidge, who seems to be trying to decide between strangling Lance and falling off her chair.

“Yeah? I know who you are.”

Lance’s smile falters for a second. Maybe Pidge is right and Keith really _does_ hate everyone here.

“Of course he knows who you are, dumbass.” Pidge rolls her eyes at him. “You kind of ignored him on Monday, you’re loud and annoying, and his sister is friends with Lotor.”

“Wait.” Lance turns from Keith to Pidge and back to Keith. “Your sister is…?”

Keith looks just as mystified as Lance feels, maybe even more so.

“Acxa’s his step-sister, genius,” Pidge explains. “She’s the emo one with the short purple hair? Wears a claw thing on the back of her head?”

“How do you know that?” Keith asks, squinting at Pidge in confusion. They must not be _that_ close, Lance decides, if this conversation is anything to go by.

“Because Mattie told me a few days ago. And he knows because Ezor--the blue ponytail one--mentioned it when they were working on an assignment together last week. Anyway, Lance, that’s how he knows who you are.”

Keith looks somewhat mortified that his cool, mysterious personality has been unwound so easily. Lance is just as confused. Is _that_ why Lotor had been talking to Keith earlier? He derails the subject quickly.

“So, does that mean you’ll be at the senior party?” he asks.

“I’m… a sophomore.”

“Well, yeah, so am I. But I’m sure no one would mind if Acxa took you along.”

Keith shakes his head slowly. “She asked me, but… Parties aren’t really my thing.”

Pidge coughs awkwardly. Lance racks his brain for something to say, finally settling on, “You might have fun if you go. I mean, no pressure, but it would be a good chance to just hang out for a while.”

Something about the way Keith is sitting now, tense and awkward, makes him think that he’s definitely right about not being a party person. Pidge seems to agree.

“Hunk and I wanted to order pizza and watch movies instead, but Lance dragged us into going,” she rambles, steering the conversation away from Lance artfully. “So if Acxa forces you to go, you can always come be antisocial with us.”

Keith relaxes the tiniest bit. “Thanks,” he mumbles, partly drowned out by the bell.

Lance groans as the shuffle of students rushing into class gets louder. “That was horrible. Why did I do that?”

“You were trying to be nice,” Pidge comforts him, patting his arm. “I think he appreciated it.”

“He looked like he wanted to bolt out of the classroom or something.”

Pidge sighs. “I don’t know him too well, but I get the feeling that he doesn’t like being alone as much as everyone thinks he does. So you did a good thing.”

“Thanks for making it less awkward, I guess.”

“Thanks for agreeing to name our egg John Eggbert.”

“I so did _not_ agree to that.”

* * *

 

_12:04 pm_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: So what color are your eyes?_

_unknown: what_

_unknown: why_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: No reason_

_unknown: i’m not telling you_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Aw, come on_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I’ll tell you mine_

_unknown: i know what color your eyes are_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: What? How_

_unknown: because i know who you are?_

_unknown: it’s not like i haven’t seen you before_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Oh yeah?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Do you spend your free time staring at mi cara?_

_unknown: i spend my free time doing my schoolwork_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Wow, can’t relate_

_unknown: it’s because i don’t have friends here_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Well you’d have a bunch if you’d just come talk to me_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I’ve got a pretty cool group of friends_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: It used to be bigger but_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: some stuff happened_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Some people had to leave_

_unknown: i’m sorry_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: No, don’t be_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Sorry to bring it up_

_unknown: is that why you’re so sad recently?_

_unknown: not to intrude but_

_unknown: you’re usually so happy and it’s weird seeing you not_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: It was just some stupid high school stuff_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I think it blew over already_

_unknown: i hope so_

_unknown: high school stuff sucks_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Yeah_

_unknown: high school sucks_

_unknown: people suck_

_unknown: what the world needs now is a good old fashioned plague to wipe a couple billion of us out_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I hope it comes soon_

_unknown: i hope i catch it_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: No, all the good people are immune_

_unknown: shit, class is starting_

_unknown: i have to go_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: What class?_

_unknown: not telling_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Pleeeease? uwu_

_unknown: bye, lance_

“I bet he has like, Studio Art or something,” Hunk says, reading over his shoulder.

“Hunk! Privacy.”

“You know, you should never trust an artist. One minute they’re all cool and friendly, and the next, boom! They’re selling sketches of you online as anatomy references.”

“You need to get over that.” Lance glances down at his phone, then back up towards the front of the class. “Thanks for walking me to class, though.”

“No problem, buddy. I should go, or I might be late.” Hunk turns, bag slung over his shoulder, and pauses. “Lance, do you think you can trust him?”

Lance sighs. “We’ve been over this. He’s a stranger, but he’s still a student at this school. And he feels trustworthy enough to me.”

“So then why can’t he tell you who he is?”

When there’s no immediate reply, Hunk moves towards the door. “Be careful, okay? I don’t want anything bad to happen this year.”

A second after he leaves, the door swings open again. It’s Lotor and one of his friends--Narti, he thinks--coming back from lunch. Lance knows that Lotor has Studio Art this period, but Narti is definitely in this class, so he figures that Lotor’s just being a good friend and escorting her. She takes her regular seat, signing something that causes both of their shoulders to shake with quiet laughter, and then Lotor is leaning against the desk and typing something out on his phone.

Lance tries to pay attention to anything other than the two of them, reading the agenda on the board and admiring all the student-made posters hung around the classroom. When that doesn’t work, he settles for drumming his fingers on the desk.

The bell rings and Lotor stands, glancing around the room before turning to the door. He passes Allura on his way out. Lance watches the door until Allura calls for their attention, at the same time that his phone buzzes in his pocket.

_12:06_

_unknown: have fun in english_

* * *

 

“Lance,” Allura calls to him, walking over from the stage with a stack of books in her hands. “Could you take these to the library for me?”

Lance stretches out of his chair and cracks his neck. He’s been sitting in the same spot for an hour, the same class for more than two, watching his clubmates work on their improv and trying not to think about Lotor. He’d been hoping that Allura’s Theater Arts class and Drama club would help distract him, but in the end he’d just gotten lost in thought.

He accepts the books and grabs his bag from the floor, mind waking up as he starts to move again. Despite his best efforts, he ends up going over the same thoughts that have been stuck in his head ever since English.

For instance, this one: Lance knows that Lotor’s messenger name is just plainly and simply Lotor, and that he uses the messenger to talk to his group almost daily, as well as messaging Allura to talk about student council stuff. Which means that it capital C _Cannot_ be him.

But the timing was completely on point, and it had even been about English. Lance doesn’t have many friends or people he’s close to in his English class, and only Hunk, Pidge, and Matt know his schedule well enough to remember, and Lotor could have seen him as he was dropping Narti off, so--

It can’t be him. He’s not shy, he’s not new to the school, and he doesn’t want to be friends with Lance. He doesn’t care about the other students in the school, really, except for maybe Keith because of Acxa. The point is that Lotor doesn’t care enough about him to even look his way, let alone make an anonymous messenger account just to ask if he’s doing alright.

The bell above the library’s door chimes, and a few wandering students look up from their shelves, whispering to each other when they see him. Lance sighs, avoiding their gaze and heading for the desk.

“Hey, I need to return these for Allura. Oh, it’s you.”

Keith takes a second to look up from his book, and when he does his eyes go wide again. “Hi,” he says, slipping a paper between the pages of his novel and closing it carefully.

Lance sighs. “I just need to return these. I didn’t check them out, so I don’t have the book receipt or anything.”

Keith nods, setting his eyes on the books. He slides them over to the other side of the counter, opens the front cover, and pulls out a bright pink slip of paper.

“Oh,” Lance says, feeling even stupider. It’s too bad that he’s such an idiot, because otherwise Pidge could’ve become good friends with this guy. He’s probably the only roadblock from a full on nerd friendship between the two of them, seeing as Keith’s reading _More Than This_ \--a book Pidge loves to hate.

They stand in silence while Keith checks the book receipts, types something out and checks the computer screen, and sets them on a large stack of books on his left. Lance is just starting to zone out again when he speaks up.

“Here.”

Lance looks back up, blinking. Keith is turned away from him awkwardly, not making eye contact, but he’s holding out a different book with a pink slip stuck between the pages. “It came in yesterday.”

Lance takes the book, looking at the cover more closely. It’s _How to Save a Life_ , a book he’d reserved for an English book report and then immediately forgotten about. The book receipt is already filled out--his name, the date, and the return deadline.

“Thanks,” he says, tucking the book under his arm and turning to leave, but something about just letting their conversation break off like this doesn’t seem right. “I’m sorry,” he adds, turning back.

Keith looks at him again, directly this time, surprise and confusion written on his face for what seems like the hundredth time that day. “You’re sorry? Why?” he asks.

“You know, for being so annoying earlier. I know that I overdo it sometimes.” Lance shuffles his feet awkwardly in place. “I didn’t mean to like, weird you out or put you on the spot or anything.”

Keith stares at him for an almost uncomfortably long amount of time before shaking his head and frowning. “You didn’t do anything weird,” he says. “I was the one being weird.”

“No, dude, I get it. Some people aren’t good with social stuff. I mean, Pidge wasn’t before she came out, and then Hunk and I got to her, and now she’s just as loud and annoying as us.” When Keith looks at him blankly, he realizes that that might not have been a very clear message. “What I mean is, you weren’t being weird.”

“You weren’t being annoying,” Keith replies. “I’m just not very good at making friends.”

“I get that. Most of the people at this school are just dumb assholes, so I don’t really try to be too friendly to them, either.”

Keith snorts, and Lance prides himself on getting him to laugh. “So, you volunteer here?” he asks.

Keith nods, running his finger along the pages of his paperback. “It’s the best part of the school,” he explains. “But my shift was over a few minutes ago.”

“Oh! Sorry to keep you here. I just came back from drama club, and Allura wanted me to return some theater books for her.”

“I know, you told me.”

“Right.”

Keith grabs his messenger bag from below the desk and slips his book inside, then zips it closed. “So… you like drama?” he asks, sounding hesitant.

“I like theater,” Lance amends. “People always told me that I was dramatic, but I never knew that I could act until I was forced into a middle school play in seventh grade.”

Keith nods, tucking his phone into his pocket and pushing his chair in. He seems to be expecting Lance to leave without him, but he’s going to push his luck today. When Keith starts walking, he falls into step next to him.

“Do you like theater?” Lance asks.

“I was a stagehand once. That was fun.”

“Why, because you get to wear all black and look even _more_ emo?”

Keith glares. “I’m not emo,” he mutters, almost too quiet to hear.

“You totally are.”

“I’m _not_!”

“Oh yeah? Prove it.” Lance turns, walking backwards now. “Come sit with Pidge and Hunk and I-”

“Hunk and me,” Keith corrects. Lance ignores him.

“Come sit with us at lunch tomorrow. It’ll be fun.”

Keith shakes his head. “I’m too awkward to do that.”

“Come on! Pleeeease? You’ve already met Pidge and I-”

“Pidge and me.”

“Okay, Pidge and me. And Hunk’s really friendly, unless you get on his bad side or something, ‘cause he’s got fire intuition. It would be really cool to have you with us.”

Lance doesn’t normally extend invitations like this, partly because it feels weird (people don’t ask to sit together anymore, this isn’t fifth grade) but mostly because there’s never anyone who he feels the need to ask. He has Pidge and Hunk, and sometimes Matt, and despite what he’d said before about most of the student body being assholes, he’s on friendly terms with most of them. Sometimes Shay or Mae will stop by his table for a few minutes, or some of Pidge’s Robotics clubmates join them to talk about a project.

“No, I’m okay, thanks,” Keith says as they step outside of the school. “Why do you want me to, anyway? You’ve got friends.”

“Because I want to hang out with you, genius.” Lance knocks on the side of Keith’s head softly. “And don’t take this the wrong way, but it seems like you could use a few friends, too.”

Keith shakes his head. “Maybe.”

“Awesome.” Lance claps his hands together, deciding that he’s probably not gonna get a better answer today. “Okay, I’ve got to get home, but I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Sure.” And then Keith smiles, just for a second, and Lance smiles back, and Lotor not being Unknown doesn’t seem like such a big deal anymore.

* * *

 

On his way to the front door, he passes Luis taking apart an old computer in the driveway. “Tell Hunk and Pidge that we have more parts for the robot,” he says, not even looking up.

“Where’s the evil twin?”

“Ha. Lucas is inside cooking with Mami. I’ll be there in a second.”

When he opens the door, Lucy practically knocks him over, licking a huge wet stripe up his face. “Hey! Get down, foul creature!”

“Don’t talk to my dog like that!” Pilar exclaims, emerging from behind the door. She’s got a coat on, backpack over her shoulder and keys in hand. Lucy immediately changes direction, jumping on her real owner and whining.

“Hey, where are you going?” Lance asks, stopping in the doorway. “I thought we were having dinner with Abuela Sofia this afternoon.”

“It’s good that you’re here.” Pilar pushes Lucy away gently and looks around, maybe for parents or little kids or something, like she’s worried about someone overhearing them. “I was looking for you.”

“You’re not sneaking out, are you? You know you’ll be grounded if you do.”

She shakes her head. “Not sneaking out, just trying to leave without the kids knowing.”

“So then why do you need me?”

Pilar takes a hesitant step forward, reaching out but stopping just shy of his shoulder before letting her hand fall away.

“Lance, _acere_ , I’m going to Third Sea,” she says. “I… I really want you to come with me this time. You know, you haven’t been there since the first visit and-”

Before she even finishes her sentence, Lance is backing away, shaking his head _no_. Pilar’s smile shatters just as quickly.

“Lance, don’t-”

He turns on his heel and runs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for your continuous support! I love reading your comments and seeing how you react and what you think of Unknown so far.  
> Thanks to FarmlandTensions for helping me fix an error in the past few chapters! Feel free to tell me if you see any more mistakes.  
> [Pepple's artwork for Chapters 4 and 5!](http://pepplemint.tumblr.com/post/167780854935/oops-i-was-way-late-again-chapter-3-4-for-the) [Artwork for chapters two and three here!](http://pepplemint.tumblr.com/post/167420630995/as-usual-i-am-late-but-the-next-two-chapters-of)


	5. Keith

P.E. is hell.

Which isn’t to say that Keith’s not good at it. He’s a social outcast, but he’s also an athlete of sorts, and he can upstage most of the douchebag jocks in his class with ease. His gym teacher loves trying to drag him into every example she can, which would be great if it wasn’t so absolutely terrible. Not to mention he’s made an accidental enemy of at least three people on the football team by absolutely _crushing_ them in soccer _and_ basketball.

Today they’re doing volleyball drills, which is great because Keith is actually pretty bad at volleyball, so he doesn’t have to worry about challenging anyone’s status as alpha-jock. The net is too high for him, and there are too many things to be aware of for him to be able to rely on instinct alone.

“Come on, Keith!” Coach Brooks yells as he fails to spike the ball over the net. “You can do better than that!”

Keith sighs, pushes his hair away from his face, and ducks under the net, grabbing his ball from the floor and going to join the line on the other side.

They just started their second volleyball unit of the year today, and Coach Brooks has decided to let Lance Fuentes, self-proclaimed god of volleyball, lead them in his favorite drills for extra credit. The spike drill that he’s doing now requires him to hand the ball off to either Brooks or Lance, let them toss it in the air right in front of the net, and try to spike it into the ground on the opposite side. Then he joins the other line and does it again.

Hunk, three people in front of him, hands the ball over to Lance with a quick joke that makes him laugh. Keith distracts himself by running his fingers along the torn seam of his ball, waiting until he hears the sound of a ball hitting the floor before looking up again.

“Perfect, Hunk!” Lance yells from his spot right beside the net, high-fiving Hunk with a slapping sound that seems like it would sting. “Everyone, try to keep up with this man. That’s right, you can’t!”

Hunk’s face is red. “Jeez, Lance, you don’t have to do that,” he says, rubbing his neck sheepishly.

“Too bad. That’s what you get for being friends with me,” Lance replies, smirking as his friend ducks under the net. “Next!”

Another sophomore tosses their ball to Lance, who nods at them to start. One step, two, and he tosses the ball into the air. “Nice!” Lance yells as it hits the floor on the other side with enough force to knock someone out. The sophomore grins and accepts his high-five.

Keith drums his fingers nervously as the next two people spike or fail and head to the other line. He considers faking an injury, but knows that he’s far too deep into the period to do that. Maybe he could pretend to fall down and twist his ankle--

“Keith! Are you ready?”

Keith snaps back to attention. “Um, yeah,” he says, tossing his volleyball to Lance, who catches it with ease. His long fingers almost surround the ball like a cage, whereas Keith’s short ones have trouble keeping hold of it.

“Come on, man, you can do this! I believe in you!”

Lance tosses the ball from hand to hand, waiting. Keith sighs, takes a deep breath, and steps towards the net.

The sequence is supposed to go like this: take one step forward, then another, then keep your feet together and jump _and_ hit the ball over to the other side without actually touching the net. What actually happens is more like step, run, hit the ball into the net, and then remember that you’re supposed to jump. Keith watches his ball roll across the court and hopes his body fails and he goes into a coma, right then and there.

Lance still holds out his hand for a high five, though. Keith tentatively meets it with his own, actually looking at Lance for the first time that day and realizing that he kind of looks like shit. He’s got bags under his eyes, and despite his smile (which is strained at best), he looks like he’d rather be anywhere other than here.

“Are you okay?” he asks as Lance hands the ball back, then realizes that he’s kind of slipping into Unknown’s way of talking. “I mean, I just, you look tired.”

Smooth.

Lance snorts, but lets it slide. “More like exhausted, but it’s my own fault. Don’t worry about me, Keithy boy, worry about practicing your spikes.”

With that, he sends Keith on his way to the other side of the gym to retrieve his ball.

Thankfully, the bell rings when Keith’s two away from having to spike again in Brooks’s line. He sighs and heads for the door, tossing the volleyball into a bin on his way out.

He grabs his gym bag from the platform outside the gym and is heading for the stairs when a shoulder bumps his.

“Hey,” Hunk says, falling into step next to Keith. “How are you?”

“I’m… good,” Keith replies, looking down at his bag. “How are you?”

“Me? I’m really good, actually. I really don’t like P.E. that much, but volleyball is really fun for some reason. I used to play on a team with Lance at this summer camp we went to for a few years, but we got too old to keep going so I stopped playing. I forgot how awesome it is.”

“Hey! _Acere_ , don’t leave without me.” Lance catches up to them on Hunk’s other side, then spots Keith. “Fire job with the spikes today. I really think you’re getting better.”

_How would you know?_ Keith wants to ask. _You just started talking to me yesterday._

“Dude, you look exhausted,” Hunk says, pressing his hand to Lance’s forehead. “You’re not getting sick, are you?”

“I just stayed up late playing video games,” Lance replies, pushing Hunk’s hand away. “I’m fine.”

“No, this isn’t like your normal tired,” Hunk continues, frowning. “I mean, did something happen? More Lotor stuff?”

Lance clears his throat pointedly. Keith looks down at his hands, awkwardly pretending he didn’t hear that.

“Um, no,” Lance mumbles. “I just didn’t get a good night’s sleep. Went to bed really late.”

Hunk doesn’t look convinced. Keith feels like he shouldn’t be, either.

“So, Keith,” Lance says, changing the topic. “What class do you have next?”

“Spanish,” Keith replies automatically.

“Yeah, we’ve got it together,” Hunk adds, then turns to Keith. “Lance is the TA for Spanish 6 this year. He tried to take Spanish three-four for an easy A, but his parents caught him and made him choose something else.”

“You’re fluent, right?”

Lance shrugs. “I kind of grew up with two first languages. All of my siblings did.”

“It’s no wonder you got caught in Spanish three,” Hunk says.

“Rude. Anyway,” Lance continues, turning to Keith, “If you need any help with your Spanish work, you can ask me. I help Hunk and Matt all the time, and they’ve both got great grades.”

“It’s not _all_ thanks to you,” Hunk protests.

“Yeah, but I’m trying to impress Keith!” Lance says. “Seriously though, if you want any help you can come to me.”

“Thanks,” Keith says. He’s passive-aggressively getting an A+ in Spanish after the teacher said his lack of participation would earn him a failing grade, but it’s nice to know that Lance is willing to help him. Or at least nice enough to offer.

“So, you two are still coming to the senior party, right?”

Hunk sighs. “If I didn’t show up, you’d just drag me there, wouldn’t you?”

“Well, duh. Keith, you’re not abandoning me, right?”

Keith chooses to stay quiet.

“Come on, it will be great! You can hang out with Hunk and Pidge and me. It will be a bonding experience.”

Keith shakes his head. “Like I said before, parties aren’t exactly my… thing?”

“They’re _fun_. Fun is everyone’s thing,” Lance argues. “Even emos such as yourself.”

“I’m not emo!” Keith yells, glaring at Lance. (He only seems delighted with the outburst.)

“Prove it! Come to the party and have fun and bond with us, and then I’ll believe you.”

“I think it’ll be easier to just let him win this one, buddy,” Hunk says, patting him on the shoulder sympathetically.

Keith sighs, looking away. (The walls in the basement are interestingly stained and he likes to make up stories about how they got that way, which really goes to show how lonely and messed up he is.) “Maybe,” he says.

“Yes! Acxa can tell you the details, right? Or wait, what’s your messenger name? I’ll text them to you.”

Keith chokes and uses the ensuing coughing fit time to think of an excuse. He figures he should just stick with the story he gave Hunk yesterday, so he doesn’t end up spinning an even bigger web of lies.

“I, uh, forgot my password and I can’t log in,” he explains. “I keep meaning to get it fixed after school, but I have library stuff.”

“You should get that sorted before the Modern World History project begins,” Hunk says. “Who’s in your group, again?”

“I’ve got, uh, Lotor and Mae.”

“Lotor, huh?” Hunk grins at Lance, who glares back at him in warning. “You’ll have to tell Lance _alllll_ about it.”

“Hunk,” Lance half-says, half-hisses, glancing between the two of them nervously. “You’re doing that thing where you overshare other people’s lives.”

Keith frowns, turning away again. It’s unreasonable--because obviously Lance wouldn’t want anyone to know about his thing for Lotor, especially an almost complete stranger--but that hurt a little. Maybe because he’s really less of a stranger than Lance thinks he is, or maybe it’s just him being weird and creepy.

It’s the little things, he thinks, like working on partner projects alone, or being treated like a sensitive subject, that really make him feel like an outsider at the Garrison.

Before he can stop and think reasonably about his reaction, he’s walking away.

* * *

 

_11:32 am_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Where are you?_

_unknown: walking_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: To where?_

_unknown: death is the ultimate destination_

_unknown: but i make stops along the way_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Very funny, you meme stealer_

_unknown: i’m in the cafeteria, with everyone else in this school_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Not everyone_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Wait fuck_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Almost everyone_

_unknown: where are you?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: In the lunch line_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I’m keeping an eye out for you_

_unknown: boy on his phone? could be anyone_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: But you’re new to the school, so that narrows my options down_

_unknown: sure, good luck with that_

“Nope! No way, Keith, you’re sitting with us.”

“Wha- Pidge?!”

Keith shuts his phone off quickly, almost losing his balance as Pidge starts to push him from behind.

“I’m not letting you sit alone again,” Pidge says. “Lance said he apologized for being a buffoon yesterday, so you’ve got no excuses.”

“I have plenty of excuses,” Keith protests, but they’ve already arrived at the table. Matt is sitting with a textbook open in front of him, but he’s just using it as a pillow and scrolling through his phone. Hunk is attempting to eat a piece of cafeteria pizza, which is really more like semi-edible rubber topped with a big serving of grease. “Keith!” he greets them when he looks up.

“Hey.” Hunk looks like he wants to apologize for earlier, so Keith forces a tiny smile and nod.

“I found this one wandering towards an empty table,” Pidge says, unaware of their silent exchange. “Can we keep him?”

“Pidge…”

“Why not,” Matt agrees, rolling over so that his face is squished between the pages of the textbook.

“That’s my brother. I think you two have Studio Art together.”

“Hi,” Keith says, waving awkwardly. Pidge takes her seat and pulls on his sleeve so hard that he almost falls over completely, before sitting down in the chair next to her.

“He stopped replying!” Lance exclaims, setting his lunch tray down on the table. “How rude can one guy be?”

“He’s not rude, he’s shy,” Hunk replies, catching Lance’s can of soda before it can fall. “Also, be careful.”

“Who’s shy?” Keith asks, looking back and forth between Hunk and Lance.

“Oh, right! You don’t know about Lance’s stalker.” Pidge grins mischievously, and Keith feels his stomach drop. _Unknown_.

“He’s not a stalker! He’s just a socially awkward internet friend who’d prefer to stay anonymous.”

“Lance started getting messages from this guy who wants to be friends with him,” Hunk explains, unaware of the irony of the situation. “We only know that he’s a guy and that he’s new to the school, and he also has some sort of social thing.”

“Oh,” Keith says, mind talking over itself in a long string of _please don’t connect the dots, please don’t realize that it’s me_.

“He seems cool,” Pidge says. “From what I’ve heard.”

“I don’t know, man, I don’t think you should trust a total stranger like that,” Hunk disagrees, shaking his head.

“It’s not like I’m giving him my social security number and an alphabetized list of my passwords and biggest fears,” Lance replies. “I know I can get him to reveal himself, and then I’ll judge if he’s trustable.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Matt says into the pages of his book.

“What’s up with him?” Lance asks, gesturing to the older Gunderson-Holt. “That’s an astronomy textbook. Are you even in astronomy? Does this school have an astronomy class?”

“No,” Matt groans.

“He’s working on a big secret project that he won’t tell anyone about, but he’s been complaining about it since this morning.” Pidge shakes her head, sighing. “I mean, I’d be a hypocrite to judge you.”

“Did he say he was leaving somewhere, or did he just stop messaging?” Hunk asks, leaning over Lance’s shoulder.

“He just stopped. Probably had to hold his lunch tray or something.” Lance sinks into an unoccupied seat, leaving Keith to sit between him and Pidge.

“So, have you figured out if he’s like, into you or whatever?” Matt asks, lifting his head from the textbook.

“I don’t know, maybe.”

“Probably,” Hunk says. “I still say we should talk to Shiro or Allura about tracking this guy down.”

“Or Mae,” Matt suggests.

“No talking to Mae,” Pidge says. “She’d get kicked off the message monitor squad, and then who am I supposed to blackmail into letting me join?”

“I don’t want to out the guy,” Lance says. “Although I do want to know who he is. But taking it to a teacher could be going a little too far, don’t you think? I mean, we could get someone in serious trouble.”

“I guess…” Hunk slumps forlornly in his chair. Keith almost feels bad for him--he would if he weren’t so terrified.

“Ask him where he is now,” Pidge prompts, reaching over Keith to tug on Lance’s arm.

“You think I should? I don’t want to be too intrusive.”

Matt snorts. “He messaged you anonymously to see if you were okay. I don’t think he’ll be terribly bothered by it.”

“I dunno. What do you think, Keith?”

Keith swallows nervously, squeezing his hands together below the table. What can he say that isn’t suspicious?

“Uh, I don’t know. Maybe he’s busy?”

Matt snorts. “He’s probably just staring at his phone, waiting for you to text back.”

Lance hums thoughtfully, taking a bite of cardboard pizza. “I guess I’ll ask him. It can’t hurt.”

Keith tries his hardest to look disinterested and not like he’s two seconds away from a full-blown panic attack. His ringer is silenced, like usual, and his phone is safely tucked away in his pocket, so it’s not like this is a complete game over.

Still, it won’t be long before one of them puts two and two together. Keith, the antisocial new guy who supposedly got locked out of his messenger account, and Unknown, a shy, anonymous nobody who only uses the Garrison messenger with one person. Pidge or Hunk might already have him figured out at this point.

“He’s not answering,” Lance whines, flopping backwards in his chair dramatically. “We’ve never even talked in real life, and he’s already sick of me.”

Keith frowns, looking around the table. Both Matt and Pidge are on their phones, half zoned out of the conversation, and Hunk is leaning over Lance’s shoulder, reading his messages. It really wouldn’t be that suspicious if he were to take out his phone, right?

Slowly, he pulls his phone out of his pocket, perching it just within his sight on his leg under the table. He pulls up the messenger and reads through Lance’s messages as quickly as he can.

_11:34 am_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: It would be helpful if you gave me hints_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Like hair color or height or something_

And then his message from the table:

_11:39 am_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Hey, where are you now?_

Keith glances around the table once again, confirming that nobody’s paying any attention to him, before typing out a reply.

_11:41_

_unknown: i’m in space, obviously_

_unknown: where else would i be?_

“Hey.” Lance leans over, nudging Keith with his shoulder--he almost drops his phone. “Are we cool about that thing earlier today?”

“Yeah,” Keith says, white-knuckling his phone tightly under the table. “We’re good.”

* * *

 

“I’m not going.”

“Yes, you are. Go get dressed, and meet me outside in ten minutes.”

“Parties are juvenile and stupid,” Keith says, glaring at the oh-so-fashionable outfit that’s been laid out on his bed by a certain Acxa Cadbury.

“You’re supposed to be juvenile and stupid. You’re sixteen.”

“Yeah? Well, you’re supposed to be worse--you’re eighteen.”

“Fair.” Acxa shrugs, not seeming particularly bothered. “But you’re still going.”

As soon as she leaves the room, Keith pulls out his phone and glances down at the screen. There are three messages from Lance and one all-school reminder for a field trip that he’s not going on.

_6:17 pm_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Are you going to the senior party?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: The one tonight_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: At like seven or whatever_

_6:34 pm_

_unknown: i’m not a senior_

That should have been obvious, but he still regrets sending it enough to consider deleting the message. Now Lance has even more information on him. How long will it be until his secret is out?

And how long will it be until Lance gets tired of talking to Keith, he wonders. What about when he gets tired of Unknown? Will they just stop talking? That would probably be for the best, but it feels like the worst possible outcome.

He’s friends with Lance in real life. Or he will be in the future, if he doesn’t screw it up too badly, which is a very real possibility. He has what he’d wanted, right? What more could he ask for? And of course he wants to keep Unknown a secret, maybe let him slowly fade into a story they all eventually forget, but…

Well, it’s just that Unknown feels so much closer to Lance than Keith does.

A few seconds later, his phone vibrates in his hand with another message from Lance.

_6:34 pm_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: It’s not strictly a senior party, dummy_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Hosted by seniors, yes, but there are a lot of other people going_

_unknown: oh_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Pleeeease tell me you’ll be there?_

_unknown: ..._

Well, Acxa wins this round. But Keith refuses to wear the annoyingly stylish getup that’s been picked out for him like he’s some little kid. He throws on another shirt, something he bought at a thrift shop a few months ago without realizing that it was a band t-shirt for a group he’d never listened to before. He’s been too embarrassed to wear it since then, but he figures that it will be dark--nobody will even see him.

One gross black hoodie with a weird stain on the underside of the sleeve and his only pair of shoes later, Keith finds himself standing by the door and tuning out whatever his dad and Sarah are telling him, trying not to think too hard about the way his phone keeps buzzing in his pocket. He hadn’t told Lance that Unknown was going to be there, but he hadn’t told Lance that Unknown _wasn’t_ going to be there, which is about as much of a loophole as he could ask for.

“Be safe, okay?” Sarah says, looking back and forth between Acxa and Keith.

“We will, mom, don’t worry,” Acxa replies, reaching for the door handle. “You ready to go, Keith? Zethrid’s waiting in the car.”

“I guess.” Keith glares down at his feet the entire twenty second walk to the car, climbs into the back seat, and glares some more. Zethrid, having met him twice before, doesn’t bother asking what’s wrong. They’re comfortable enough around each other, since she comes over more than anyone else from school.

“You could look a little more excited,” Acxa says, starting the engine.

“I’m so excited to go and stand in a hot room full of sweaty, gross teenagers who don’t know my name for four hours and watch people illegally get more and more drunk until nobody can even drive home safely,” Keith deadpans.

“That’s the spirit!” Zethrid exclaims. Acxa swats her on the arm.

“Don’t encourage him, he watches too many high school movies,” she says, then turns to the backseat. “There’s not gonna be any alcohol, and the party’s not even gonna be that big. It’s a really good chance to socialize.”

“I did my fair share of socializing earlier,” Keith grumbles. “This sucks.”

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” Zethrid replies. “If we’re lucky, some idiots will offend one another’s manliness or something and we’ll get to see a fight.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Acxa says, turning onto another street. “And Keith, don’t drink anything you didn’t pour yourself.”

“I thought you said there wasn’t going to be any alcohol,” Keith retorts.

“There’s not.”

“The rest of the Princes will be there, so you can hang with us if you want,” Zethrid offers, effectively changing the topic.

“Don’t call them the Princes,” Acxa says, hitting her friend again. “That’s what caramel boy calls us on his blog,” she explains to Keith.

“It’s just ‘cause Lotor acts so noble and high-and-mighty,” Zethrid adds. “Wouldn’t hurt that guy to come down to our level every once in awhile.”

“You’re not any better.”

“I’m not the one who made that freshman cry when he asked us to sign a petition.”

“It was a stupid cause,” Acxa argues. “Who would want some egotistical wannabe frat boy as the Garrison’s new mascot?”

“Lighten _up_ , A, it was a joke,” Zethrid says. “But really, Princes is a dumb name. We’re mostly girls, anyway.”

“Well, caramel boy’s blog gets a lot of traffic, so that’s what we are to most of the school now.”

They drive in silence for a few blocks, until they pass what looks to be an old, abandoned pet shop. Keith watches as a group of thin, dirty cats make their way across the parking lot.

“You want one?” Zethrid jokes, following his line of vision.

“It could be a good birthday present for Acxa,” Keith replies, glaring at the back of Acxa’s head.

“Duly noted.” Zethrid sits in silence for a second before asking, “Hey, when _is_ your birthday?”

Keith frowns, surprised. Unless he’d heard wrong, Acxa had said that she and Zethrid have known each other for five years--longer than anyone else in their small group of friends has known each other. How does she not know his sister’s birthday?

“August third,” Acxa says, not taking her eyes off the road. “Yours?”

“January twenty-seventh.”

Keith shakes his head. Acxa doesn’t know Zethrid’s birthday, either? Do any of the so-called Princes know _anything_ about each other, or is it really just some insane cult?

“Speaking of caramel boy, did you see that fight in the cafeteria the other day? I wanted a little more action, but Shirogane and Allura shut it down pretty quickly.”

“I saw it from the hot bar line,” Acxa says, then glances at Keith sympathetically. “Wasn’t that your friend, the one who got punched by Rolo?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Keith says. He isn’t sure if he and Lance count as actual friends yet, no matter what anyone says.

Acxa kindly turns on the radio for the rest of the drive.

By the time they get to the actual party, Keith has thought up a few dozen different ways in which he could embarrass himself in front of Lance, Hunk, Pidge, and whoever else might be there. He also regrets not changing his jeans, and he could have at least attempted to comb his hair.

_It’s fine_ , he tells himself. _Lance will understand. Hunk and Pidge will be there. Matt too, probably. You’re totally fine._

He pulls out his phone, finally remembering to answer Lance’s messages, but before he can even unlock it, Acxa’s plucked it out of his hand with a promise to return it by the end of the night.

_You’re totally screwed_ , Keith corrects himself.

Acxa slips Keith’s phone into her pocket, then knocks twice on the door. A tall girl with a long, bright aqua ponytail opens it and pulls Acxa into a hug. Ezor, Keith remembers. Another Prince.

“Hey! You brought your brother!” Ezor exclaims, waving. “What’s your name again, guy?”

Keith mumbles something that sounds vaguely like his name and sidesteps through the door before Acxa can start her Formal Introductions, glancing around the room suspiciously. He can see about twenty five people from where he’s at, but it looks like there could be a few more in the bathroom or in the kitchen or something. At least there are more freshmen and sophomores than he thought would be there, but he doesn’t see many that he knows well. (Not that he knows that many people.)

He feels a tug on his sleeve and looks to the left. Pidge is grimacing at him (or maybe it’s a smile?), a hopefully non-alcoholic beverage in hand.

“Having fun?” he asks sympathetically. She shakes her head, taking a sip from the cup. (It’s coke, thank god.)

“Anxiety, man, anxiety.”

“Ah.”

So far he’s seen one familiar face, and it’s sadly not much comfort to him.

“Hunk and Lance are helping out in the kitchen,” Pidge says helpfully. “They should be back soon, though.”

“Cool.” Keith leans against the wall (partly to spite Acxa, partly because most of the seats in the room are taken up or dangerously crowded) and wishes that he had his phone. Lance usually gets suspicious when he doesn’t answer quickly. At least Acxa has it stored in some secret location, so it’s not like someone else could find it and read all of Lance’s messages.

Beside him, Pidge stiffens. “Oh my god,” she breathes, unconsciously squeezing his arm. “It’s her.”

“Who?”

“The girl from robotics club,” Pidge whispers, staring intently at somebody across the room. Keith follows her line of sight right to a short, darkly tanned girl with some type of long-on-top-short-on-the-sides-and-back punk looking haircut. He vaguely remembers her from the halls, though he doubts he has any classes with her.

“What, is she mean or something?” he asks, confused.

“No, she’s fucking _perfect_.” Pidge suddenly looks a thousand times more nervous than he feels, backing slowly against the wall. “You have to hide me, Keith, _please_. Stand in front of me or get Lance and Hunk or something.”

“What? Why? If you like her, you should- yeah, okay.” He’d be the world’s biggest hypocrite if he didn’t do as she asked. Keith moves as casually as he can to stand in front of Pidge, turning to face her as well. “Why don’t you want her to see you?”

“I didn’t get dressed up for the party or anything, and I didn’t do something about my hair, and my glasses are smudged-” Pidge rants, removing her frames and wiping at the clear glass with her shirt. “I’m wearing a hoodie, Keith!”

“So? I’m wearing one, too.” Keith glances over his shoulder again, then back at his friend. “She’s a really big deal to you?” he half-asks, half-states.

“Yeah, yeah, she’s kind of a huge deal to me!” Pidge immediately looks horrified at herself. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you. I- I just really don’t want to mess things up.”

The last part is mumbled down at the floor as Pidge finishes smearing around the grime on her lenses, but Keith catches it anyway.

“I bet you wouldn’t mess anything up if you went and talked to her,” he says, aware that he’s giving Useless Dad Advice right now. “I mean, have you talked to her before?”

“A few times.” Pidge counts them off on her fingers. “There was that one time in science class earlier in the year, and once during lunch, and one time--actually, two times in robotics club, and once in Latin. But they were always really short, awkward conversations. She probably hates me by now.”

Keith shakes his head. “I’m sure that she doesn’t hate you,” he says, glancing over his shoulder in search of Hunk or Lance. Luckily, they’re just emerging from the kitchen.

“Hey, Keith, you made it!” Lance’s happy expression drops when he sees the twin looks of panic they’re both wearing. “What’s wrong?”

“Alana’s here!” Pidge groans, flailing her arms frantically. “What do I do?! What if I have to talk to her?”

“Um, you’ll be great, obviously,” Lance says, relaxing back into his usual confident demeanor. “I think you should go talk to her now, if you’re ready.”

Pidge bites on the skin around her nail, a habit she shares with Keith. “You think I should? But what if she thinks I’m annoying?”

“Alana?” Hunk asks, joining into the conversation. “Dude, she loves talking to you! You always make her laugh in robotics club.”

“And nobody could ever think that you were annoying,” Lance adds. “Seriously, she’d be so happy to see you.”

Pidge chews on her finger for a few seconds more, deliberating. “Keith?” she asks finally, turning to him. “What do you think?”

Keith looks from Alana back to Pidge, then between Hunk and Lance (who are both giving him thumbs-ups out of her line of vision). “I mean, I stand by what I said before,” he says, eyes darting to the left. (Hunk looks at him suspiciously.) “If you like somebody, you should just go up and talk to them. The worst that could happen is they don’t like you back.”

_Liar_ , he thinks to himself.

Pidge, however, is too distracted to psychoanalyze. “Okay,” she says, taking a deep breath and shaking her arms out. “I’ll go talk to her. But if it goes badly, I’m killing you all in your sleep.”

“There she is!” Lance exclaims, clapping his hands together. “You’ll do great! Ask her out!”

“Lance!”

“Okay, okay. Just be yourself, and I’m sure she’ll love you.”

Pidge glares back at them before turning and edging her way around the side of the room. Lance smiles and gives her the thumbs-up sign whenever she turns back to shoot them a nervous look. Hunk is still squinting at Keith weirdly.

“Did I say something wrong?” Keith asks, glancing around uncomfortably. “I’m not good at encouraging people.”

“It’s not that,” Hunk says, shaking his head. “Never mind. I was just thinking.”

Keith looks away, nervous. Hunk is smart; he could have figured Unknown’s identity out by now. Maybe he’ll tell Lance when they’re alone, and Lance will cut Keith out of his life forever, and he’ll go back to square one. No, past square one. He’ll never even be able to _look_ at Lance or Hunk or Pidge again.

“Are you telling Unknown about Pidge’s girlfriend?” Hunk asks, breaking Keith out of his haze.

“I would be, but he’s not replying,” Lance says, phone in hands. “He just stopped again in the middle of a conversation!”

“Maybe he’s busy,” Keith suggests, trying to be helpful and also not obvious. “I mean, it is a Friday night.”

Hunk raises an eyebrow. “You think he’s busy? He seemed like kind of a nerd without a social life.”

“How do you know he’s not lying?” Keith counters. “Maybe he’s really popular and he just thinks Lance is cool.”

“I _am_ cool,” Lance says, looking up from his phone. “And so is he. He wouldn’t lie to me.”

“Well, we don’t know that for sure…” Hunk trails off, looking guilty. “But I mean, it’s not like you’re not being careful. Sooner or later, we’ll find out who he is.” The last part is said to both of them, and Keith shudders. He nods in a way that he hopes is reassuring, feeling his stomach drop in his chest. Unknown isn’t going to last forever.

Sooner or later, he’ll slip up.

In the time that they’ve been talking, the room’s become much more crowded. There are people everywhere Keith looks, talking and laughing and even dancing. People flow onto the patio as well, and a few are making their way upstairs. (Gross, Keith thinks.)

“Let’s go to the kitchen,” Lance suggests, motioning for them to follow. They push through the swarm of bodies wherever they can, Keith ducking and weaving and Hunk just politely asking to get through. The air in the kitchen is much more breathable, and he finds himself taking deep breaths as soon as he’s inside.

“Are you okay?” Lance asks, looking at him with concern. “I know you said that parties weren’t your thing, and I know I made you come, but if you need to go-”

“I’m okay,” Keith promises, forcing his breathing back to a normal pace. “Has Unknown responded?” he adds, knowing fully well that Unknown won’t respond until the party’s over. Lance shakes his head and sighs, sending another message.

The music dies down, then stops completely as somebody unplugs their phone. To his horror, Keith can hear a faint buzzing. The sound of a phone on vibrate against a hard surface.

“Do you hear that?” Lance asks, pausing. The buzzing stops.

“Yeah? Dude, it’s a phone,” Hunk says, not getting it. Keith crosses his fingers behind his back.

“No, _watch_.” Lance types out another quick text and sends it, then puts his finger to his lips. The faint buzzing returns, once, twice.

“You think it’s him?” Hunk asks, catching on. Lance nods, sending another text.

“It’s coming from over here,” he whispers, beckoning them towards the back of the kitchen. Keith feels sick. Acxa must have left his phone out on a counter, and now he’s going to be found out, and all because he didn’t turn off his stupid buzzer, and-

“Which one is it?” Hunk asks, looking between the seven or eight phones lying on the counter, each one of them plugged into an extension cord. Keith spots his phone, near the far end of the cord, its screen facing down.

“We can’t just dig through these,” Lance says, sending another text. Keith cringes as his phone buzzes harshly against the counter.

“Who says? It’s not like we can even unlock them or anything,” Hunk says, already reaching out for one of the phones next to Keith’s. “I think it was this one.”

“Hunk, privacy!” Lance exclaims, catching Hunk’s hand before he can touch it.

There’s a loud commotion from across the room, and the three of them simultaneously whip around to check on it. Pidge is standing between a tall jock Keith vaguely recognizes and a horrified looking Alana. Just from her facial expression, Keith can tell that she’s fucking _furious_.

“Oh my god,” Hunk says, forgetting about the phones. Lance is already pushing his way through the small crowd, and Keith takes off after him.

“Dude, relax!” the tall guy is saying holding his hands up in defense. “I didn’t even do anything!”

“What happened?” Lance asks Pidge directly, putting himself between the two of them.

“This guy was being a douchebag, Lance. That’s what happened.” Pidge glares over his shoulder at the douchebag guy.

“Specifics, Pidge?”

She sighs, looking reluctant to even say it. “He asked Alana some creepy question about hooking up with her, and he wouldn’t leave her alone.”

“You’re overreacting,” the creep says, a scoff evident in his voice. “This isn’t fucking middle school. All of you need to grow up.”

“Or maybe you just need to back off,” Lance says, turning to face Creep Guy. “Seriously, dude. Take a hint.”

“I didn’t do anything!” Creep Guy almost yells. “She’s here alone, she’s legal, what more do you want from me?”

“How about taking no for an answer,” Pidge snaps.

“What, are you her boyfriend or something?”

Keith chokes. The room goes quiet in a flash. Lance balls his hands into fists, but Pidge catches his shoulder before he throws the punch.

“I’m a girl,” she says, voice suddenly quiet, but without trace of a tremble. Nobody reacts, waiting for somebody to do something, watching for a reaction. Then, without a second more of hesitation, Alana pushes forward (Lance stepping out of the way quickly, because she’s kind of scary when she wants to be) and stands in front of Pidge.

“And here I thought you were the type of douche who could sense pretty girls from fifty yards away,” she says, glaring. Creep Guy grins and steps closer.

“I can certainly tell when one’s right in front of me,” he says, clearly not getting the hint yet again. Alana takes a very pointed step back.

“I’m a lesbian, and you’re a dick,” she says, hand on hip. “Not exactly compatible.”

Keith has never wanted to high-five somebody more in his whole life.

Alana turns, pulling Pidge away from the crowd and heading towards the kitchen. Lance steps back up to Creep Guy, hands balled again.

“She’s not wrong,” he says, suddenly looking a lot bigger than he had before. “You are a _huge_ dick.”

“What’s wrong with that, Fuentes?” Creep Guy leers. “I thought you were totally into those. Or was it just that you’re really into Lotor?”

Lance’s frown turns into a deep, angry glare and for a second Keith thinks that they’re really going to fight. But then his expression shifts from furious to humiliated, and his hands fall to his sides. He takes a step back, then another.

“Lance,” Hunk says, reaching out. But Lance is already running.

Keith doesn’t know what to do. Everybody’s gone; do they still want him here? Should he go after Lance with Hunk? Leave them alone and find Pidge and Alana? Should he just leave?

He catches sight of a head of shiny black hair, tannish hands pushing through the crowd, and his mouth goes dry.

“Nothing to see, here,” Lotor says, standing in the space where Lance and Pidge had been. He catches Keith’s eye as he speaks, and Keith quickly looks away. “Everybody go back to the party. There’s nothing to see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Alana (the oc that Pidge likes) shares her name with my good friend Taesha, who always reads Unknown even though she doesn't watch VLD. They're very different people, though.  
> By the way, if you guys are enjoying Unknown, it would make me really happy if you shared it with your friends! Don't feel any pressure to, though. You've already been so amazingly supportive, it's overwhelming. I know I don't respond to many comments, but I read every one of them multiple times and they always make me smile. Thank you for continuing to support Unknown!  
> [Pepple's amazing artwork for Chapters 4 and 5!](http://pepplemint.tumblr.com/post/167780854935/oops-i-was-way-late-again-chapter-3-4-for-the) Next update on November 18th.


	6. Lance

Lance doesn’t know where he’s going--he’s never been here before, so he leaves through the sliding glass door by the kitchen. He’d known from the moment that he walked in, maybe even before that, that something bad was going to happen, but he’d been too excited to care.

_Stupid. Why am I always so_ stupid _?!_

He makes it out to the sidewalk, face burning with shame and eyes stinging. Lotor had _been in the room_ when that guy had said that Lance liked him. If there was any doubt in anyone’s mind before, it’s certainly clear now: he’s a pining loser acting like a lovestruck puppy.

“Lance!”

It’s Hunk, bracing his hands on his knees and panting. Lance wishes he’d just go back inside.

“Dude, are you okay? I thought you were gonna punch that jerk. What happened?”

“Lotor was _in there_ , Hunk,” Lance says, stomach turning as the words leave his mouth. “He heard what that guy said about me. God, now we know he knows for sure!”

“It’s not the end of the world, okay?” Hunk says, sounding like he doesn’t believe himself. “Lotor probably gets that stuff thrown at him all the time. And he doesn’t really seem like the type to care.”

“Is that any better?” Lance asks, not expecting an answer. He feels cheap and humiliated, like he’s the ditzy main character in a high school rom-com. His embarrassment only grows as hot tears start slipping down his cheeks. “Why am I such an idiot?” he groans.

“You’re not an idiot. Look, it’s totally not as big a deal as you think it is, okay? People have crushes, it’s _fine_.”

“But not everyone has their crush on the _most popular_ guy in school get exposed multiple times _in front of that guy_.” Lance scrubs at his face and glares, annoyed at himself for crying. “He must think I’m so stupid.”

“Nobody thinks that you’re stupid, Lance.”

He shakes his head. “Just… I just want to get some air before I go back in. Go check on Pidge, okay? I’ll be okay out here.”

Hunk looks doubtful, but he doesn’t protest; just pats Lance on the back and wanders back inside. Pidge is definitely having a harder time than he is right now. She hasn’t been misgendered in such a long time that it came as even more of a shock to all of them than it would have before. He hopes that Alana sticking up for her has at least gotten the lesbian romance ball rolling.

He sits down on the curb, sinking his chin onto his knees and wrapping his arms around his legs. Tonight has been a monumental disaster, and he doesn’t see it getting better anytime soon.

His phone presses awkwardly into his leg, reminding him of its existence with a gentle vibration. Lance wants to ignore it, but the chances of it being one of his friends are too big.

Speaking of which, he really needs to remember to get Keith’s messenger name. Or at least his phone number.

He digs his phone out of his pocket and opens the message before he can even see who it’s from. It turns out to be Hunk on the group chat, trying to explain the disaster of a night to Matt, who had stayed home to keep working on his secret project.

_9:54 pm_

_Mattt: WHO WAS IT_

_Mattt: ILL KICK THEIR ASS_

_Matt: ILL KILL THEM????_

_pidge: it’s fine, Mattie._

_Mattt: LIKE HELL ITS FINE!_

_Hunk-a-saurus: He was a tall guy, dyed blue hair_

_Hunk-a-saurus: Wearing a varsity jacket_

_Mattt: QUENTIN_

_Mattt: THAT FUCKING BASTARD_

_pidge: jesus, calm down._

_pidge: it’s okay, Matt._

_Hunk-a-saurus: I don’t know if it’s ‘okay’_

_Hunk-a-saurus: But Matt should really calm down_

_pidge: exactly._

_Mattt: doesnt matter im still gonna kill him on monday_

_pidge: god, please don’t._

_pidge: just let it blow over._

_Hunk-a-saurus: I don’t think we should let it blow over_

_Hunk-a-saurus: But we should check if it was a genuine mistake before we go killing anyone_

_Mattt: fine_

_Mattt: im still gonna kick his ass one way or another_

Lance shakes his head, closing the chat, but his gaze hovers on his chat with Unknown before he has a chance to exit the messenger. Had Unknown really been in there? Was it just a fluke, just the universe playing some shitty joke on him? He honestly wouldn’t be surprised.

If Unknown had been in there, he definitely would have seen the whole fiasco. Lance wonders briefly if he’ll stop responding and try to cut himself off from the embarrassing idiot at the party. (Then he remembers that Unknown is an anonymous internet stalker who messaged him out of nowhere.) Figuring that the night really can’t get any worse, he opens the chat.

_9:56 pm_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I want to die so much right now_

The response is almost immediate.

_9:56 pm_

_unknown: why? did something happen?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Yeah…_

_unknown: tell me about it? if you want to_

Lance frowns. Either Unknown is playing it safe and lying to him, or he really _wasn’t_ at the party. Either way, he never turns down a chance to vent.

_9:57 pm_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Well, remember why you first messaged me?_

_unknown: yeah, because you seemed pretty depressed_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Well, my friends and I were talking pretty loudly at lunch the day before_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: And Pidge and Hunk were teasing me about this little thing I have for this guy_

_unknown: Lotor?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: How did you know?_

_unknown: lucky guess_

Lance shakes his head. There’s no way that Unknown is Lotor; he’s already gone over this in his head millions of times.

_9:59 pm_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Well, yeah_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: And you know how sometimes there’s like a birthday or something and the lunch staff bang on a big pot and the room goes totally silent?_

_unknown: kind of, yeah_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Well, I was arguing back because that’s what friends do_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: And I was yelling something like_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: “I don’t have a crush on Lotor, I just think he’s really cool and smart and attractive” or something_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: But somebody banged on a pot in the middle of my sentence and I kept yelling because I didn’t realize what happened_

_unknown: oh god_

_unknown: i’m sorry, lance_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I could have lived with it, but it kind of reminded me of this other thing_

_unknown: other thing?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I don’t really like talking about it, but ever since the whole lunch room thing, people keep bringing it up_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Even Hunk and Pidge_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I feel like I don’t have anyone to turn to anymore_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Which is stupid, but still_

_unknown: i’m sorry_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: It’s not your fault_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Anyway, that guy Rolo came up to me last week_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Before the fight he was trying to get me to say stupid shit for his gossip blog_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: And he kind of went too far_

_unknown: did he bother you again today?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: No, this other guy Quentin did_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I was at the party and Lotor was there_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: And Quentin was being a jerk to Pidge_

_unknown: how so?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Well, she’s trans and he didn’t know that or didn’t care so he called her a guy_

_unknown: what a dick_

Lance swallows, remembering Quentin’s not so subtle comment about that.

_10:05_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I stepped in after she left and he called me out about Lotor while he was in the room_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: And we just made eye contact for a second before he looked away but it was terrible_

_unknown: i hate jerks like that_

_unknown: and i’m really sorry that happened to you_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Thanks for letting me vent a little_

_unknown: no problem_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: You know, you seem like a really cool person_

_unknown: i’m much less cool in real life_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I don’t think that’s true_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: It’s weird, but I really do want to know who you are_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: You’re so interesting, you know? I feel like I can trust you_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I’ve never met anyone like you before_

_unknown: …_

_unknown: well, that’s a shame_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Please tell me who you are?_

_unknown: i have to go._

The last message comes in a minute after Lance’s question, and as soon as he reads it he feels like an idiot. _Good job, moron, you just scared him off._ He shakes his head, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, and finds them surprisingly tear-free. Huh.

“Hey,” Pidge says, tapping him on the shoulder. “I’m gonna get going. Alana offered to walk me home since I live pretty close, so that’s nice.”

“Good for you, Pidge,” Lance says, offering her a tired smile. She only frowns in return.

“I’m sorry, you know. About ruining the night for you. Hunk said you guys almost had Unknown figured out, and he told me about the thing with Lotor. I didn’t mean to.”

“Hey, stop that. It’s not your fault, okay? I just want my friends to be happy, and if you aren’t, then I’ll do whatever it takes, got it?”

Pidge nods, a little misty-eyed. “Okay. Thanks, Lance. See you on Monday.”

Lance nods back, standing and stretching. He should decide what to do, or rather see what Hunk wants to do since they carpooled. He turns to go back inside, but Hunk is already next to him.

“You want to get out of here?” he asks. Lance nods.

“A little bit, if it’s okay with you.”

“Of course,” Hunk says, patting him on the shoulder. “You think I could sleep over? Mom was kind of pissed at Mama when I left and I kind of want to leave them to settle things on their own.”

Now Lance feels like a jerk for never asking Hunk how he’s doing. “Of course you can,” he says, shoving his phone into his pocket. “Mami wants your help with her computer, even though she could probably just fix it on her own.”

“What happened to it?”

“Lucy and Allie were having a race.”

Hunk snorts. “Your house is always so lively,” he says, turning back to the house. “I’m gonna try to find Keith, tell him we’re leaving. Do you want to stay out here?”

“I’ll come,” Lance says, suddenly realizing that he’d just kind of left Keith in there on his own. He has to apologize, at least, and maybe invite him over as well.

The two of them make their way back into the party. People give them strange looks, and sometimes Lance hears giggles pointed in their direction, but he determinedly stares at Hunk’s back as they wander around.

“I don’t see him,” Hunk says, shaking his head. “Do you think he’s in the bathroom?”

“Let’s just wait a minute and see.”

Lance busies himself with looking at the stack of phones charging on the extension cord. There are a lot of different ones than there were before, bright cases and charms dangling from the headphone jack. He considers sending more texts, just to see if any of them vibrate, but he stops himself.

“Hey,” a voice from behind them calls. Lance whirls around, ready to defend himself, but it’s not any of the fuckboy sports jerks he’d seen before.

“You guys were with Keith earlier, right?” the tall, dark-haired girl asks. Lance recognizes her immediately, but she introduces herself regardless. “I’m Acxa, his step-sister.”

Of _course_ Lance knows who Acxa is. She’s part of Lotor’s group of outsiders, or “Princes”, as Rolo calls them. They’ve never spoken before, or even made eye contact, because of their age difference and the social barrier between them, and now here she is, asking about one of his friends.

“What happened to Keith?” Hunk asks, clearly not as awed or intimidated as Lance is. “Is he still here?”

Acxa frowns. “No, he took the bus home a few minutes ago.”

“Uh, okay.” Lance shakes his head, trying to function like a normal person. “Why did he leave?”

“He just said he was tired. I was going to ask if one of you could text him and make sure he has his phone. Mine’s dead, and I want to make sure he got it back from the charger and nobody stole it.”

“We don’t have his messenger name or anything,” Hunk says. “He says he got locked out of his account.”

“Locked out? No, he…” Acxa trails off, frowning. “No, never mind. You’re right. I’ll uh, remind him to reset it when we get home.”

Lance is still too shocked that Acxa is talking to them to really register the strangeness of her words, but Hunk seems to find them interesting. Acxa looks between the two of them questioningly.

“Well, thanks for your help, I guess,” she says, turning back to the main room. “Later.”

“Later,” Hunk echoes, shaking himself back to the present.

“Do you think she heard what I said before? Is that why she was so cold to us?”

“I think she’s just kind of a stand-offish person,” Hunk replies. “Did you hear what she said?”

“Yeah. It’s weird that Keith just left,” Lance says. “Do you think it was my fault?”

“I think…” Hunk frowns, then starts over again. “I think we should get going. We can talk to him later and make sure he’s okay, okay?”

“Sure,” Lance says. “I bet Pilar will make us root beer floats when we get back.”

Hunk nods. “I’m guessing you’re not holding a grudge against her?” he asks gently. “For Third Sea?”

“She can do whatever she wants.” Lance looks down at his shoes, then back up. “Come on, I’ll race you to the car.”

* * *

 

Lance wonders if Keith will be mad at him the next time they see each other. He’d promised that Keith would have a good time, that they could hang out together and get to know each other a little bit better, but they’d barely gotten to talk before he’d ran out. If their places were switched, he’d probably be pretty pissed, but he’s not sure if Keith’s that sensitive a person.

He tries messaging Unknown over the weekend and only receives short, clipped answers. He wants to ask for advice on Keith, but it doesn’t seem like Unknown would know what to do. Even if he did, he probably wouldn’t say.

Sunday at noon, right after Hunk leaves, he sends a simple _Did I do something wrong?_ and gets no reply.

* * *

 

He’s kind of completely dreading Monday morning, wondering what everyone will be whispering about him behind his back. _There goes that guy with the huge crush on Lotor._

Surprisingly, he doesn’t get laughed out the door as soon as he walks in. A few people stare and whisper, like they had the day after his first outburst about Lotor, but it’s nothing near the humiliation he’d been expecting.

He meets Hunk by the lockers, and listens to him ramble about spark plugs and carburetors as they wait for Pidge and Matt. The older Gunderson-Holt arrives a few minutes later, carrying a suspiciously full and bulky bag with him.

“Oh, what’s that?” Hunk asks, reaching over to poke it.

“Privacy,” Lance reminds him.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Matt says, hoisting the bag onto his shoulder. “Although it’s mostly tools.”

“Where’s Pidge?”

“She’s with Alana in the science lab. Either they’re making out, or they’re exploding things. Hey, Keith.”

Lance looks up, making eye contact with Keith for a second before Keith looks back at Matt. “Hey,” he says.

“Is your locker around here?” Lance asks. “Most of the sophomore lockers usually are.”

“It’s right over there,” Keith says, pointing to the other side of the hall. “I don’t use it, though.”

“Acxa told us you went home after the stuff happened,” Hunk says with absolutely no tact whatsoever. “Is everything okay?”

“Fine,” Keith says with a shrug. “I was tired.”

Lance can practically _feel_ Keith not looking at him. “I’m sorry we abandoned you,” he blurts, just to have something to say.

Keith shrugs again, not meeting his gaze. “I get it,” he says, not really sounding like he wants to talk about it.

“Hey, at least no one’s really making fun of you,” Hunk says, trying to help. “I haven’t heard anything about the party all morning.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Lance says, remembering what happened with Rolo the last time.

“Why _isn’t_ anyone talking about it?” Matt asks. “I mean, I’m really glad, but it’s still a little… I don’t know, strange?”

Keith coughs awkwardly. “I uh, asked Lotor to tell them not to,” he says. Lance stares, utterly confused.

“What? What do you mean? What did he say?” he asks, grabbing Keith by the shoulders. “Did he laugh at me when you asked him?”

“He went to apologize to me about what happened,” Keith explains, “since everyone else had already run off.”

“And?” Hunk asks, his voice dancing almost as desperately as Lance’s.

“I said that it didn’t matter to me, but you’d probably appreciate it if nobody brought it up.”

“And he said he’d get people to stop talking about it?” Lance asks.

“He said he’d try his best,” Keith explains.

Lance doesn’t have the emotional capacity to feel suspicious of Keith’s motives along with all the joy that’s already inside him. “Keith, _acere_ , thank you so much!” he exclaims, tackling Keith in a hug. “Seriously, you’re the best.”

Keith pulls away, his face a little pink. “It’s nothing,” he says, the corner of his mouth pulling up a little.

“It’s not,” Lance says, shaking his head. “Thank you. That was really… really great of you to do.” Subconsciously, he goes to fix Keith’s hair from where he’d messed it up.

Keith looks away, and Lance realizes that he might still be upset about the party. “Are we good?” he asks, ducking down to catch Keith’s eye.

“Sure,” Keith says. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

Lance frowns. “I’m sorry about leaving you alone on Friday,” he says. “There was a lot going on, but… that wasn’t cool of me. It won’t happen again.”

Keith half-smiles again, just a little bigger than before. “I get it,” he says, nodding. “Thanks, though.”

The bell rings, and they both jump. “Um, we should get to class,” Keith says, grabbing his bag from the ground.

“Bye, Hunk!” Lance calls, waving over his shoulder as they head to History. Hunk waves back, walking in the opposite direction with Matt.

“So…” Lance says, drawing out the word and trying to think of how he can bring Lotor up casually. “Your sister came to talk to us at the party. She’s a Prince, right?”

“I guess so,” Keith says.

“With Zethrid and Narti and Lotor, too. Are you guys really close?”

“Me and Acxa?” Keith asks, giving Lance a quizzical look. “I guess we don’t hate each other, so there’s that. She’s actually pretty funny in a mean kind of way.”

“No, I mean you and Lotor,” Lance says. “You two seem to talk a lot.”

“We’re not close,” Keith says, and for some reason it makes Lance’s shoulders sag in relief. He tries his best to hide it.

“Really? It seems like he really likes you.”

Keith rolls his eyes. Actually _rolls_ them, like the idea is _that_ ridiculous. “He’s my sister’s friend. I guess he thinks I’m cool or something, ‘cause he invites me to eat lunch with him and his friends sometimes.”

Lance blinks in surprise. “Wait, are you serious?! Keith, he doesn’t invite _anyone_ to do that. His group has been cemented for, like, _forever_!”

“Well, I guess he changed his mind.”

Keith’s tone is stiff and closed off, and Lance worries that he’s accidentally offended him. “Hey, I’m just kidding,” he says, elbowing Keith playfully. “You _are_ pretty special, after all. Even if you are emo.”

Keith scoffs. “Why are you so interested in Lotor?” he asks, elbowing Lance back. It’s probably meant to be an innocent question, something to change the topic, but it almost feels like an accusation after everything that happened at the party.

“I’m not, really. That guy Quentin didn’t know what he was talking about,” he lies.

“Oh,” Keith says, not sounding too convinced.

They don’t talk much after that. Lance considers asking Keith what he thinks of Lotor, since he already knows Pidge and Hunk’s opinions on him, but decides to leave it for another day. Keith seems pretty negative-neutral on everybody at the school, so he probably won’t be super into him or anything. He hopes.

“There you two are,” Pidge says, as if she’s been waiting for an hour instead of goofing off with her girlfriend. “Class is about to start, you know.”

“Well, we’re here, so it doesn’t matter,” Lance says. “Where’s Alana?”

“She’s got Physics,” Pidge explains. “Coran isn’t here yet, but we’re supposed to get into our revolution groups.”

“...Ah.” Keith shoots Lance a little smile, his eyes playful and genuine at the same time. “I’ll say hi to Lotor for you.”

Normally, Lance would be annoyed by comments like that. Maybe it’s the lack of Pidge or Hunk’s raised eyebrow and suggestive tone that makes him smile back. “Sure you will,” he says.

Pidge rolls her eyes, but makes no further comment on the matter. Instead, she says, “So, which revolution do you want to do?”

“Is it cheating to do the Cuban Revolution?” Lance asks. “I mean, it’s not _really_ cheating…”

“It’s not cheating at all,” Pidge says, “but I was thinking we could do the French Revolution.”

“It’s too big,” Lance complains. “Let’s just ask Shay what she wants to do.”

“She’s not here today,” Pidge reminds him. “Family vacation or something. Anyway, if not the French Rev, could we at least do the Scientific Revolution? The Singing Revolution?”

Lance glances over to the other side of the room, where Lotor is standing by Keith’s desk and talking to Keith and Mae Plaxum about the project.

“What the fuck is a Singing Revolution?” Lance asks, turning back to Pidge. “Did they sing their protests or something?”

“They had anthems, I don’t know,” Pidge replies, not seeming to care too much about answering Lance’s dumb questions. “We’re supposed to have it chosen by now. I already know a lot about the French Rev, so it would be easy for us to research, but you already know a lot about the Cuban revolution, so I guess that’s not really a fair reason.”

“At least you have _some_ morals,” Lance mutters, following Pidge to their usual table.

Coran runs into the room as they reach their seats, holding messy stacks of colored paper and a steaming hot cup of tea. “Everybody, class is starting!” he calls, setting the cup down gently before slamming the papers onto his desk. “I hope you all chose your revolutions, because we’re starting research today!”

Lance glances over at Lotor, who’s whispering to Keith and Mae quietly. “So… Scientific Revolution?” he whisper-asks, tearing his attention away. Pidge shakes her head.

“Cuban Revolution,” she replies, cracking a grin. “If we don’t call out Che Guevara, who will?”

* * *

 

_1:39 pm_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Where are you?_

_unknown: in the school building or in life?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: The school building, you philosophical asshole_

_unknown: i’m not philosophical, i have a dry sense of humor_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Does this mean you’re not gonna tell me?_

_unknown: i’m basically in every corridor_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: What do you mean?_

_unknown shared a photo_

Lance stares at the picture. It’s one of the trash cans that the Studio Art students had painted last semester in an attempt to keep the school environment lively and warm. It’s got a bright field of fluffy yellow flowers--acacia, maybe? He recognizes this one as the trash can by the bottom of the staircase from the second to third floor.

_1:41 pm_

_unknown: get it? i’m trash_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Did you have that picture saved in your phone or did you just take it now?_

_unknown: i just took it_

_unknown: well actually, both now, i guess_

Before he can even question his actions, Lance darts down the stairs he’d just walked up, skids to the left, and almost crashes into the wall.

There’s nobody by the trash can. The small amount of people in the hall are engrossed in conversation, or making out against the walls. Nobody spares a single glance in his direction.

He sighs, turning back to the staircase with his hopes dashed, when something catches his attention. Half-shoved into the trash but trapped between the rim of the can and the lid is a pink slip of paper. A library receipt? Lance takes a step closer, then pulls the slip out of the trash can.

It’s definitely a library receipt, although there’s nothing written on it. But there are smudges of something red along the top and corners--not blood, Lance knows, it’s not the right color or consistency to be blood.

He checks the picture in his phone, sent less than a minute ago from this very location, then looks back at the receipt. It hadn’t been in the picture, which means one of two things: Either some random person had been really quick at throwing this paper away, or Unknown had tossed it after taking the picture.

Lance folds the receipt carefully, making sure that the sides are even, then sticks it in his bag. His phone buzzes twice, reminding him that he’s still in the middle of a conversation. He pulls it out of his pocket and opens the chat again.

_1:43 pm_

_unknown: do people at this school not make trash jokes?_

_unknown: i thought that was a universal thing_

_message un-sent_

_unknown: please tell me you didn’t read that_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: No, you’re good_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Why?_

_unknown: i fucked up and mentioned my old school by name_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Damn, now I wish I read it_

_unknown: good thing you didn’t_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: So you’re sure that we’re okay now? You’re not mad at me?_

_unknown: why would i be mad?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: You just seemed kinda pissed at me over the weekend_

_unknown: don’t worry about it_

_unknown: it was just some real life stuff_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Everything okay?_

_unknown: for now, yeah_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Okay_

_unknown: class is starting, i should go_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Me too_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: What class do you have next?_

_unknown: bye, lance_

Lance sighs, hauling his bag into the auditorium, where his Theater Arts class is. He’s not looking forward to seeing Lotor; the two of them have two out of four classes together on B days, but none nearly as small as Theater Arts. It’ll be his first time _really_ coming face-to-face (or close enough) to Lotor since the party.

Hunk has already made his way from his Coding and Engineering class to the theater, his bag saving a space for Lance to sit down. Lotor isn’t there yet, but most of the other students are milling about and checking out the props for the school’s end of the year play.

“How’s the robot going back home?” Hunk asks as Lance takes a seat. The class is so small that they sit in a single circle of plastic chairs instead of in rows of desks.

“Fine. Luis says it’s almost done, but Lucas wants to add a mini flamethrower. You should come over and talk him out of it.”

“Sounds good,” Hunk says. “Although, a flamethrower could be interesting…”

“The roles are up!” somebody yells from across the room. Lance glances up, watching a group of students gather around the bulletin board to see who got the main parts. He hadn’t tried out for the main role this year, partly because juniors and seniors who’ve been in Theater Arts have better chances of getting the main roles, but also because he and Hunk had wanted to play roles that involved each other a lot.

The play is a classic production of Shakespeare’s _Twelfth Night_ , which Lance had thought was boring. The girl, Viola, disguises herself as a guy for a job and accidentally falls in love with her boss, the annoying and oblivious Duke Orsino. The entire thig is so painfully _obvious_ from the start, and yet Orsino still thinks that he’s in love with the Lady Olivia up until Viola reveals herself to be a girl.

“It’s better than Romeo and Juliet,” Hunk had said when it had been announced.

“Yeah, but at least Romeo and Juliet is straightforward,” Lance had replied, unwilling to admit that he secretly loves Romeo and Juliet. “I can’t tell who’s who. It’s like a huge guessing game.”

Lance had auditioned for the roles of Valentine and Sebastian, while Hunk had opted for Curio and the Captain. They’ll have better chances at main roles next year, anyway.

“Want to go see?” Hunk asks, gesturing to the bulletin board.

“Yeah. Fingers crossed, right?”

Lance leaves his backpack in the circle and follows Hunk across the room. Lotor is walking through the door, and he turns towards them as he sees the crowd around the board.

“Are the roles up?” he asks, and it takes Lance a second to realize that he’s being spoken to. He blinks once in shock, trying to come up with an answer. “Uh, y-yeah,” he says, then nods vigorously.

“Great. Thank you.” Lotor turns away, and Lance breaks into a grin. Technically speaking, Lotor has talked to him twice before--not that he’s keeping count, or anything--but never as directly as that.

Lotor turns towards the list, nods curtly, and wanders away. Lance distantly remembers him auditioning for Orsino, Malvolio, and Sebastian.

“Oh my god,” Hunk whispers, looking almost as giddy as Lance feels. “ _Oh my god_ , Lance, he talked to you!”

“I know, I know,” Lance replies, rubbing the back of his neck.

“And you got Valentine!”

“I- wait, I got Valentine?”

Hunk nods excitedly, pointing at the cast list. Sure enough, his name is typed on the right of the paper, lined up with _Valentine_ on the left. Hunk’s name is lined up with _Curio._  Lotor got the part of Orsino, of course--he’s stoic in real life, but onstage he really comes to life.

“ _¡_ _Acere!_ You got the part!” Lance exclaims, high-fiving Hunk. “Congratulations!”

“We’re gonna have scenes together!” Hunk adds, looking like he could start jumping up and down any second.

“Alright everyone, class is starting!” Allura yells, motioning them over with a wave of her hand. “If you haven’t had a chance to see the roles yet, I’ll read them out in a second.”

The group roams over, taking their seats in the circle. Lotor sits across from Lance, who tries not to stare at him. He needs to be careful if he wants to leave the Weird Lovestruck Stalker Guy label behind for good.

He lets himself replay the words in his head, choosing not to think about how pathetic he is. Lotor could have asked somebody else with ease, avoided getting Lance’s hopes up, avoided Lance in general. But he hadn’t.

Lance wonders if Keith asked Lotor to talk to him, and makes a mental note to ask him about it later. Maybe Keith could be the bridge between the two of them that they’d been lacking. Maybe--just maybe--they’ll be able to get over all the weirdness and the gossip and manage to become friends.

Lance will let himself hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After I posted the last chapter, I saw a few people in the comments saying that they felt like this fic is going to be big in the fandom, and honestly, that would be a dream come true. I don't really think it will happen, especially because we're already almost halfway through the fic, but I'm seriously grateful to everyone who's helped Unknown get to where it is right now. In addition, thank you to everyone who's shared Unknown with their friends! It helps a lot :)  
> [Pepple's artwork for Chapters 6 and 7](http://pepplemint.tumblr.com/post/167780883895/chapter-5-6-of-unknown-the-fic-i-got-to-work-on) | [Pepple's artwork for Chapters 4 and 5](http://pepplemint.tumblr.com/post/167780854935/oops-i-was-way-late-again-chapter-3-4-for-the)


	7. Keith

“Do you have plans after school today?” Lotor asks. It’s a Wednesday, two days after Lance had found the red-paint-marked library slip that Keith hadn’t quite been careful enough about. It was part of a revised idea for his Studio Art class, where they’re each supposed to come up with a final project on their own. He wants to do something with paper mache and wire sculpting, but he hasn’t quite figured out what yet.

Keith keeps typing, trying to get the last few words of his sentence down before it flies away from him completely. He’s already mostly forgotten where it’s going, so he just ends it unsatisfyingly early.

“I’m volunteering at the library until four thirty,” he replies finally, clicking over to Wikipedia. Mae is out sick, which means it’s just him and Lotor working on their Agricultural Revolution presentation. They’re making good time, but they would be doing _so_ much better if Lotor would stop making small talk. Seriously, he’d never thought of Lotor as talkative before, but then again, he hadn’t thought much about Lotor _at all_ until a week ago.

“Do you volunteer every day?” Lotor asks, adding a few sentences to their shared notes document. Keith nods, clicking over to a second Wikipedia article.

“Usually. Unless it’s _really_ busy, they don’t hold me to it. Why?”

Lotor finishes his paragraph--and seriously, who takes notes in _paragraphs_ \--before turning to Keith. “Acxa and I are going to Sal’s pizzeria with some friends. Would you care to join us?”

“I’m a slow walker,” Keith lies, scanning over the second Wikipedia article. The site itself is unreliable, but it makes for a good outline for research. “Take Lance instead,” he adds as an afterthought.

“Who?”

“Lance Fuentes. He’s in a bunch of your classes, or whatever. You saw him over the weekend…”

Lotor shakes his head. His dark hair falls in front of his eyes. “We aren’t really that familiar with Lance,” he says, and Keith is pretty sure that he still doesn’t even know who they’re talking about.

“You don’t know me that well, either.”

“Well, let’s fix that.” Lotor looks over at him playfully. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Red.”

“My favorite is green, but I also like purple. Red is nice, too.”

Keith makes a noncommittal humming sound. He doesn’t understand why Lotor has taken this special interest in him, but it seems to be a problem with Lance, and as much as he doesn’t want to offend one of Acxa’s friends, his own are much more important to him.

“What was your old school like?” Lotor asks. “Galra High, right?”

“Galra Polytechnic.”

“Why did you move?”

“My dad remarried, like I said before,” Keith snaps, glaring at the keyboard. He’s definitely not getting into this with Lotor right now. “How’s the research going?”

Before Lotor can reply, the bell rings. Keith logs out of his Garrison chromebook (because apparently the school can afford hundreds of small laptops, but can’t scrape up the funds for real cheese for their ham sandwiches). He grabs his backpack and heads for the door, waving goodbye to Lotor as he does. He should at least try to be friendly.

“So, is he as smart as everyone says he is?” Pidge asks, popping up beside him.

“Yeah. He writes notes in really long paragraphs.” Keith rolls his eyes. “It’s weird.”

“That’s how _I_ write notes!” Pidge exclaims, offended. Keith changes the subject quickly.

“How’s the Cuban Revolution going?”

“Okay. We’ve got a good amount of research done, but it’s a pretty big revolution.”

Keith nods, not knowing anything about the Cuban Revolution. He figures that there’s no such thing as a small revolution, though, just big ones and bigger ones. Once, when he was back at Galra Polytechnic, his friends had staged a protest against the school board cutting their French class.

There aren’t any French classes at the Garrison, only Spanish, Latin, and American Sign Language.

“You know, I’m surprised Mr. Coran let Lance and me work together,” Pidge continues, oblivious to Keith zoning out next to her. “Every presentation we’ve done together this year has turned into a long rant. British people and their extra vowels, the hugely incorrect perception and idealization of Che Guevara, the fact that there _is_ actually a word that rhymes with orange-”

“Really? What is it?” Keith asks. Pidge rolls her eyes.

“It’s sporange, which comes from sporangium, which is a botanical term. Anyway, we haven’t gotten sidetracked with anything like that so far, aside from more Guevara stuff, but I wouldn’t hold your breath.” Pidge frowns. “I wish you were in our group. Shay is great, and I love working with her, but…”

Keith nods. “Lotor’s getting a lot done, and Mae is a hard worker, too.” he says, trying to get the sympathetic look off her face. “I just hope she’s not sick for long.”

“You could ask Mr. Coran to help you out,” Pidge suggests. Keith snorts and shakes his head.

“What about Shirogane?” Pidge asks. “You two seem to be pretty close.”

Keith shrugs. He’d had a hard time warming up to Shiro at first, but it got easier after he’d literally told Keith to BS through his essay because that’s how he’d gotten through college, and no one will be able to tell anyway. (Shiro seems to hate the public school system even more than the kids do, and that’s saying a lot.) They have a sort of understanding: Shiro doesn’t push Keith into asking for help, and Keith comes to him when he finally decides to.

“It’s been like, almost two weeks since Unknown and I started talking.” Lance pops up on Pidge’s other side, not bothering with an introduction as they start to walk towards the science room. Keith tries to look both interested and casual at the same time, which just ends up being his normal face.

“Aren’t you getting sick of him yet?” Pidge asks, skeptically raising an eyebrow. “I mean, there’s only so much you can talk about with an anonymous stranger… It’s not like you two are close or anything.”

“Hey, Unknown’s cool. I’m not gonna get sick of him,” Lance says, then pauses. “I mean, I _do_ want to know who he is, and it’s not like he can keep it up forever, but it’s not like, a necessity in our friendship yet.”

“Strange,” Pidge says. “When you and Hunk first met me, you wanted to know everything about me.”

“Well, that’s because you were so closed off. Like Keith here,” Lance replies, turning his attention back to Keith. “What’s up? How’s working with your group?”

“He means to ask about Lotor,” Pidge supplies. Keith shrugs half-heartedly, already having come to that conclusion.

“It’s alright, I guess,” he says, not wanting to go into further details.

“Cool. Fire.” Lance makes a popping sound with his lips a few times as they walk, opens his mouth, then closes it again. He frowns in concentration, like he’s trying to figure out how to say something.

“Was there something else?” Keith asks, raising an eyebrow. Call him a hypocrite, but he hates people who beat around the bush instead of saying what they want to say.

Lance shakes his head, but keeps talking anyway. “I heard he was asking you to go out with him after school,” he says, a little bit hesitant.

“He means ‘overheard’,” Pidge adds, quite unhelpfully. Lance elbows her in the side.

Now it’s Keith’s turn to shake his head. “He wasn’t asking me out,” he replies. “He’s hanging out with a bunch of his friends and my sister, and he just wanted to know if I wanted to come.”

“Although, that pizzeria _is_ a popular date scene,” Pidge says. Keith elbows her in the side this time, trying to silence her. She elbows him right back.

“I told him to take you,” Keith says. Lance blinks in surprise. Clearly he hadn’t overheard _that_ part of the conversation.

“Really? Why didn’t you say yes yourself?”

“Because I didn’t want to,” Keith snaps, frowning at nothing. “He said that he doesn’t know you that well, and I said that he didn’t know me that well, either.”

“Good for you,” Pidge says, reaching up to mess with his hair. Keith ducks out of the way as they reach the science room.

“Dude, the eggs are here!” Lance exclaims, Lotor temporarily forgotten. He points towards a table with two cartons of eggs on it, one empty from the previous class, and one full.

“They’re for the test drop,” Pidge replies. “So that we can see how they work and make some last minute adjustments. The real egg drop is on Friday.”

“I’m still gonna draw a face on it!” Lance cries, already dashing towards the table with a pen in hand. Pidge rolls her eyes, then turns to Keith.

“So, what do _you_ think of Unknown?” she asks, her eyes squinted like she’s calculating something. Keith swallows.

“I think it’s kinda creepy,” he replies, shifting his bag on his shoulder. “And a little desperate of him.”

“Hm.” Pidge sits at her and Lance’s normal table, motioning for Keith to sit with her. “You don’t know anyone who fits the bill? I’m sure you’re huddled up with a group of anti-social emos when you’re not with us,” she jokes.

“I don’t know, maybe the guy who sits next to him in Geometry?” Keith racks his brain for someone new and shy enough to cover for him. “Red hair, blue eyes, nose ring?”

“Kane? No, he went here last year.” Pidge sinks her head down onto her arms. “Plus he’s not really the type… Huh. Well, keep thinking, I guess.”

Keith sighs, setting his bag on the ground. Maybe blaming someone else will help deflect any suspicions of him being Unknown, but he can’t think of anybody perfect enough for it to work.

“Lance has a nice philtrum, don’t you think?” Pidge asks, turning her head to face him so that her cheek is squished on her arm.

“A- a nice what?” Keith asks, staring at her in confusion. Pidge isn’t one to give out compliments like that, especially physical appearance-related ones. (He doesn’t know what a philtrum is, anyway, but it sounds like something she wouldn’t usually compliment.)

“Philtrum. It’s the groove above the center of his upper lip. See?” She points to her own groove, then at Lance. Keith knows--they both know--that Lance is too far away to see it, and either way, it’s hardly a feature that can be called “nice”. But he still looks, watching as Lance draws a cartoony face onto the egg he’s chosen with blue Sharpie, his long fingers holding the pen gracefully as he works.

“You look so different when you look at him,” Pidge says, but it’s not in her usual teasing tone. “You get all… soft.”

She almost sounds curious, inquisitive, like she wants to know _why_ it happens. Something tells him that they’ve both already figured it out, but it still comes as a shock when she points it out to him.

“No, I don’t,” Keith says, clenching his jaw and tearing his gaze away.

* * *

 

Despite what all tropes, cliches, and stereotypes might suggest, Keith _hadn’t_ had a crush on Lance two weeks ago. He’d found him fascinating, yes, charming and attractive by every standard of the word, but he hadn’t had a _crush_ on him. It was more of an admiration, he tells himself, something that he’d wanted but hadn’t bothered to go after because there’d been no chance for him.

Maybe it was becoming friends with him in real life. Maybe it was Unknown. Maybe it was a combination of both, and the fact that he’d been wrong about not having a chance at being Lance’s friend.

And maybe Keith has known for a long time that his “admiration” of Lance is the furthest from plainly platonic that it possibly could be, but it’s these past two weeks that have really consolidated and intensified those feelings into something he can name.

He has a crush on Lance Fuentes, who has a crush on Lotor Tuan, who for some reason takes the time out of his day to talk to Keith. And he’s Unknown.

What a fucking mess.

* * *

 

“Hey, what’s up? You’re really quiet today.”

Keith shrugs, grabbing a bag of baby carrots from the basket at the end of the lunch line. He really prefers the pre-packaged food the school offers over the hot lunch, but Hunk and Lance seem to like it well enough. Maybe it’s because Hunk knows how to turn the gross, oily pizza and half-cooked noodles into something actually pretty good using the other cafeteria foods and condiment packets he probably steals from restaurants.

Speaking of Hunk, he’s standing with Keith in line, looking at him with concern. “Keith?”

“Yeah, sorry.” Keith shakes his head. “I’m fine. How are you?”

Hunk is easy to talk to. He always fills Keith’s silences with filler talk, which is usually nice because Keith doesn’t have to wrack his brain for what to say next. Hunk is so easy to talk to, sometimes it feels like Keith has known him forever.

Which is why it’s so strange that Hunk hesitates before answering. There’s a pause while Keith grabs a container of mandarin oranges, then waits for the line to move up. He glances at Hunk, noticing that he looks a little sleep deprived.

Hunk catches him looking and smiles. “I’m alright. My moms had another argument… It’s hard for me to be around them when they fight. But I’m really okay, you know,” he adds when he catches Keith staring at him with concern. “The line’s moving up.”

Keith takes a few steps forward, then turns back to Hunk. “Are you okay? I mean, can I like, support you in any way or anything?” Fuck, he’s the worst at comforting other people, but at least he tries. (Not that trying has gone over too well so far, but still.)

“I don’t think there’s anything you can do, but thanks for the offer.” Hunk smiles lopsidedly. “Lance usually lets me sleep over when it gets bad. Sometimes when we have early notice, we get Pidge and Matt to come over, too. You should join us next time.”

Keith nods, not knowing what to say. He’s not exactly an expert on parents or anything. His mom and dad had never fought when he was around, which is both a blessing and a source of guilt for him. They always acted like everything was okay, but it got harder and harder after the-

“I hope they have it worked out by the time I get home, though,” Hunk says, reaching around Keith to get a plastic fork. Keith takes a paper boat half-full of pita bread with a container of hummus on top, and the two of them head towards their usual table.

“So, I’ve been meaning to ask you about something,” Hunk says, “and if you want to, you can lie. I’m just really curious. If the shoe fits, or whatever that saying is.”

Keith looks down at his lunch, suddenly feeling nervous. He’d taken the red case off his phone after the party, just in case Hunk or Lance were to recognize it, but had that been enough? He glances up at Hunk, who is adding parmesan cheese from a packet to his spaghetti and trying to be casual.

“Look, I-”

Before Hunk can ask or accuse or whatever, Lotor appears between the two of them, holding a lunch tray in one hand. Surprisingly enough, he’s alone instead of surrounded by the rest of the not-Princes.

“Mind if I sit with you?” he asks, glancing around the table before looking back at Keith.

“I guess,” Keith says, shooting a glance over at Hunk. Hunk shrugs, then gestures to the rest of the cafeteria--it’s pretty full, since it’s spaghetti day. Ezor and Acxa are still in the food line, and Zethrid is standing by the door waiting for them. There probably wasn’t enough space for them to have a table to themselves like usual, Keith figures.

Lotor sets his tray down next to Keith’s, while Hunk makes a large amount of confused hand gestures on his other side. Keith just shrugs back; he doesn’t know what’s happening, either.

Matt walks over from the lunch line and practically falls over when he sees Lotor. “Uh, guys?”

Lotor glances up at Matt for a second, a look of registration crossing his face. “Oh, we’ve got health together,” is all he says. Keith offers him another helpless shrug, and Hunk whispers something that sounds a lot like “I don’t like that guy.”

“So…” Matt looks between Lotor and Keith, then back to Lotor. “Thanks for not blabbing about Lance, I guess.”

“Why would I talk about Lance?” Lotor asks, looking confused. Keith figures he’s already forgotten his promise to keep people from gossiping about the party.

Matt sighs, poking his sauceless spaghetti. “Never mind.”

Pidge and Lance have the same reaction as Matt when they see Lotor sitting next to Keith. Lance looks unusually pale, and Pidge has to nudge him into his seat with her tray, before reluctantly taking the one between him and Matt. He whispers something to her and she frowns.

“What are you doing here, Lotor?” Keith asks finally, seeing as they all want to know the answer. Lotor doesn’t seem too put out by his tone, which is wary and confused.

“I thought it might be a good idea to get to know you more,” he explains, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “Acxa’s been telling me a lot about you. It seems like we’ve got a lot in common.”

“ _Reall?_?” Pidge’s tone is incredulous. “What could the two of you possibly have in common?”

“Well, as far as your sister knows, you don’t like to go out much,” Lotor says. “I was like that when I was younger.”

“Really? But you’re so outgoing, I never would have guessed,” Matt says sarcastically.

“Well, it was before I met Acxa and Zethrid, and I didn’t exactly have a partner to go out with,” Lotor explains.

“You mean you weren’t popular with the girls?” Hunk asks. Lance elbows him in the side, frowning.

“I wasn’t very popular at all until halfway through freshman year, but a few boys thought it would be funny to try and kiss me.”

“You weren’t into it?” Matt asks.

“I would have minded less if they weren’t idiots,” Lotor says. “Gender is of no real importance to me.”

Keith glances across the table at Lance, who seems to have choked on his food and is now suppressing a coughing fit. Time for a change of subject. “What are the others doing for lunch?” he asks, glancing around the cafeteria again. The rest of Lotor’s friends have disappeared; they’re probably off campus by now, he figures.

“They don’t really like crowded places,” Lotor explains. “We were all going to the library after we ate, but-”

“Hey! Prince Lotor, what are you doing over here?”

Keith looks in the direction of the voice and sees the blue-haired jerk from the party sauntering towards them, a few other athletes behind him, all wearing their varsity jackets. He leans over Keith, resting his hand on the table between him and Lotor.

Matt looks like he’s ready to lunge over the table and murder one or all of them, so Keith stands first, elbow connecting with the blue-haired guy’s rib cage on the way.

“Hey, what the hell?” the guy snaps, stumbling backwards a step or two. Keith smirks.

“Pidge?” he says, gesturing to the hall. She nods, grabbing her tray and backpack and standing as well, followed by Matt.

“Hey, it’s the guys from the party!” blue-haired guy exclaims, turning to them. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten you, now.” He winks at Pidge with a vomit-inducing smirk.

Matt slams his hand on the table so hard that a mostly-empty cup of water jumps and rolls onto the floor. Then he spins around and marches out of the room.

“Lance?” Hunk asks quietly. Lance looks between Lotor, Hunk, and Keith, and then stands as well.

“Bye,” he says, almost inaudibly, before turning to follow Matt out of the room.

“What’s with them?” Keith hears one of the other jocks ask. Lotor mumbles something under his breath, followed by the sound of a chair scraping against the floor. Keith rushes out of the cafeteria after Lance.

“What the fuck? Did we just get kicked out of _our_ table?!” Pidge exclaims. “What the _fuck!_ ”

“I hate that guy!” Matt yells, then frowns at the floor. “He’s a jerk,” he says, quieter.

“Lotor likes guys?” Lance turns, walks a few steps, turns again, and walks back.

“I didn’t see that one coming,” Hunk agrees, then yawns. It almost looks like the bags under his eyes have grown darker.

Keith feels out of place again. He doesn’t know what to say, not to any of them. How can he comfort people he’s only really gotten to know in the past week? Before Unknown, he’d only ever talked to Pidge, and not even that often. He hadn’t know about Lance’s crush on Lotor, or Hunk’s moms fighting, or how much trouble Pidge still has to face because the people at the Garrison are idiots.

What does he do?

* * *

 

_3:24 pm_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Are you okay?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: You haven’t been making as many sarcastic comments_

_unknown: i’m alright, thanks_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: It doesn’t seem like it_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: You want to talk about it?_

_unknown: i shouldn’t_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Come on_

_unknown: well, i…_

_unknown: i’m just_

_unknown: still having a hard time around here_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Is somebody giving you trouble?_

_unknown: not exactly_

_unknown: i have some complicated feelings i guess_

_unknown: just figured it out today_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: A crush, huh?_

_unknown: i… guess_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: OOH on who?_

_unknown: i’m not telling you_

_unknown: and i know for a fact that he likes someone else_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: GASPPPPPPPPPP_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: HE?!_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: You have a crush on a guy?!_

_unknown: no! i meant they_

_unknown: i mean, i do, but_

_unknown: just forget that_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Is it Lotor? I wouldn’t be mad_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: You know I wouldn’t be mad, right?_

_unknown: i don’t know anything!_

_unknown: and that’s the whole problem!_

_unknown: i started talking to some people, and it was great at first, but i still feel like an outsider_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Well, first off…_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Good for you, talking to people!_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: That’s a good thing!_

_unknown: it doesn’t seem like a good thing_

_unknown: i love spending time with them all_

_unknown: but i’m not really part of their group_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: You should come to our group, if you don’t like being in theirs_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: You wouldn’t be out of place here_

_unknown: but i am!_

_unknown: i mean, i’m happy in the other group_

_unknown: i mean, i like being in theirs_

_unknown: not that i wouldn’t like being in your group_

_unknown: most of the time when i’m with them, i feel like i’m intruding_

_unknown: and when i don’t, it’s because i’m caught up thinking about this person_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I thought the crush was kind of a new thing?_

_unknown: well, it is, but it’s_

_unknown: i don’t know_

_unknown: it’s complicated, i guess_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: You seem pretty in love with the guy_

_unknown: we barely know each other_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Falling fast, huh?_

_unknown: it sucks_

_Dancin-Bi-Myself: I have to say, I’m a little jealous_

_unknown: what? why?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I’m just kidding, don’t worry_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Look, if you feel like an outsider in the group, try getting to know everyone in it one by one_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: That way you can form bonds with all of them, which might make it easier for you to be with them when they’re all together_

_unknown: but i’m not good at hanging out with people_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: You’re awesome!_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Look, around a week ago, maybe a little less, Pidge introduced me to this guy_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Do you know the sophomore Keith Yeun?_

_unknown: i know of him, yes_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: He’s this super anti-social shy kid_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: And a lot of the time he’s pretty closed off_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: But when he opens up, he’s really funny and cool and smart_

_unknown: your point being?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Maybe you just need to try to open up more around them_

_unknown: ...i’ll try_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: There you go!_

_unknown: no promises, though_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Too bad, I’m holding you to it!_

_unknown: greeeeaaaaat_

_unknown: so this keith guy_

_unknown: he’s actually your friend?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: What do you mean?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Obviously he’s my friend_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Why?_

_unknown: he doesn’t just follow you around?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Of course not!_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Why would you assume that?_

_unknown: sorry_

_unknown: it’s just hard to imagine an addition to your group_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: It’s alright_

_unknown: so, how about you?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: What about me?_

_unknown: are you feeling better?_

_unknown: how are things with lotor and your friends?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Things are complicated, I guess?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: He talked to me two days ago in Theater Arts_

_unknown: that’s a good thing, right?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Yeah, it is_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: It was only a few words, anyway_

_unknown: so why is it complicated?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Well, during lunch today he came to sit with us_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: And a bunch of jerks came over and started doing their normal jerk stuff, so my friends and I had to leave_

_unknown: why?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Because some of those guys were the same people who harassed Pidge at the party over the weekend_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: And the other problem is that Lotor likes Keith a lot more than he likes me_

_unknown: i’m sure that’s not true_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: No, it is_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: He talks to Keith a lot, and they’re partners for the Modern World History project_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: He even tried to ask Keith out once_

_unknown: you’re jealous of keith?_

_unknown: that doesn’t make any sense_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I try not to be petty about it, but…_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Something about their “relationship” just makes me want to push them away from each other_

_unknown: …_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Does that make me a bad person?_

_unknown: it makes you human_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: But…_

_unknown: look, you don’t have any reason to be jealous of keith_

_unknown: just because Lotor talks to him, doesn’t mean he likes him more than you_

_unknown: you’re awesome, lance, and you shouldn’t let anything anyone else does or says make you think otherwise_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Really?_

_unknown: seriously_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Thanks so much_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: That’s so sweet of you_

_unknown: i’m just trying to help_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Ha_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: That’s one of the first things you ever said to me_

_unknown: really?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Yep_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I wish you’d tell me who you are_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I want to meet you_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Like, a lot_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Oops got caught with phone in drama club have to go_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: See you later!_

_unknown: bye_

_unknown: talk to you later_

* * *

 

“Keith!”

Keith looks up from where he’s been loading library books into his bag. It’s Thursday, which usually means that he can get away with packing up early and actually catch the 4:35 bus that Hunk normally takes.

Shiro is standing on the other side of the desk, a few books in his hand. “I almost forgot you volunteered here,” he says.

Keith slings his bag over his shoulder and straightens up. “I can get those for you,” he says, gesturing to the books.

“If you need to get out of here, I understand,” Shiro says.

“No, I’m not in any rush.”

Keith takes the books and starts scanning them, the motion almost mechanical after months of volunteering. Shiro watches him with interest.

“Hey, so you’ve been hanging out with Pidge and her friends, right?”

Keith nods and shrugs at the same time. “Kind of, yeah,” he says, scanning the last book and handing the stack over.

“How’s that going for you?” Shiro asks.

“It’s okay. They’re cool.”

“Really?” Shiro takes the pink library receipt from Keith and tucks it into one of the books. “Well, I’m glad that you’ve found your people. I was actually starting to get a little worried, you know?”

Keith sighs. He’s heard the Make Some Friends lecture from basically everyone who can even vaguely identify as an authority figure in his life--Shiro, his dad, Sarah, Acxa, his mom the one time he’d called her a few months ago. He’s had just about enough of people being concerned about his social life.

“If you want to spend more time with them, I could arrange for you to help the Theater Arts class during Study Skills. I was thinking about having some of my kids volunteer for it, anyway, and you really don’t gain anything from being in that class.”

“Really?” Keith asks, raising an eyebrow. How Shiro knows that Lance and Hunk are in Theater Arts, he’s not sure, but it probably has something to do with how close he is with the class’s teacher, Allura Boatema.

“Yeah. I think it could be an optional thing for people who don’t have anything to do during class.” Shiro glances down at the books, then back up. “What do you think?”

“It beats sitting around doing nothing,” Keith says. Shiro’s right; he really doesn’t need Study Skills. It’s basically just a study hall, and he always finishes his work in the first half anyway.

“I’ll talk to Ms. Boatema, then. She was complaining about not having enough stagehands and painters, so you’ll probably be really helpful.”

“Cool.”

Shiro nods at him, then ducks out of the library. Keith rolls his eyes, swings his bag over his shoulder again, and leaves through the other door.

“Keith!” somebody calls from the other side of the hall. Keith knows before he even turns that it’s Hunk; nobody else has a voice quite like his.

“Hey,” he says, waiting for Hunk to catch up. The two of them start walking towards the bus station together.

“I should tell you that I’m not actually taking the bus today,” Hunk says.

“Why?”

“Sleeping over at Lance’s again.” Hunk shrugs, staring straight ahead. “We’re going to the middle school talent show to see Violeta’s friends perform before going home. You can come, if you want.”

Keith shakes his head. Spending time with Hunk and Lance is always nice, but he has no idea who Violeta is, and he doesn’t care about the middle schoolers or their talent show. “Maybe we could hang out later, though,” he offers, remembering Lance’s advice to him--to Unknown. _Bond with them one on one._

“That sounds like a great idea,” Hunk says. “And I can walk with you while I wait for Lance to get out of drama club.”

“You’re in Theater Arts, too, right?” Keith asks. Hunk nods, smiling a little.

“It’s really fun. I wish you could be there, too.”

“Actually…” Keith readjusts the strap of his bag. “Shiro told me that I might be able to help out the Theater Arts class during eighth period. I never do anything in Study Skills, so I might come and paint sets or help move stuff around during rehearsals.”

“Seriously? That would be awesome! Lance is playing Valentine, and I’m Curio, so it’s not like we’ve got a lot to memorize, but you could help us run lines if you want to.”

“That would be fun,” Keith says. He remembers the plays back at Galra and how his friends had always gotten so stressed about getting off-book before their dress rehearsal. Being an actor seems like a lot of work, especially in high school.

“Hey,” Hunk says, and Keith stiffens automatically. His tone of voice has changed completely, going from light to serious in a single word, and it immediately puts Keith on edge.

“Yeah?” he asks.

“I need to ask you something. And it might be a little intrusive, and you might get mad at me for it, but just know that I still think you’re really cool, no matter what your answer is.”

Keith frowns, swallowing around the lump in his throat. His heart beats fast and hard in his chest. This isn’t happening. There’s no way that this is happening. Is it possible that Hunk…?

“Yes?” he prompts nervously. Hunk still doesn’t say anything, just watches him with a careful, analyzing eye, his eyebrows drawn into a loose frown.

“Hunk, my bus is coming soon,” Keith says with a nervous laugh, glancing down the street. Why can’t a drunk driver come out of nowhere and kill him on the spot?

He turns back to Hunk, meeting his gaze again. Hunk is tall--taller than Keith had realized before this moment--and for a minute he thinks that he might get beaten up.

Hunk, seeming to notice that he’s being threatening, takes a step back, still locking Keith in place with his gaze. “It’s you, isn’t it?” he says, although it doesn’t even sound like a question. “It’s you… You’re Unknown."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're officially halfway through Unknown! Once again, I want to thank everyone who's taken the time to leave kudos and comments, and everyone who's supported this fic in any way. I haven't been responding to comments like I usually do because there are so many and I didn't want to get generic with my responses, but I'll definitely respond to comments on the last chapter once it's up :)  
> [Pepple's artwork for Chapters 6 and 7!](http://pepplemint.tumblr.com/post/167780883895/chapter-5-6-of-unknown-the-fic-i-got-to-work-on)


	8. Lance

“Do you want to sleep over again tonight?” Lance offers as they walk to school the next day. “It’s a Friday, so we could go somewhere fun.”

Sleepovers with Hunk are always fun, mostly because his mom lets them use the kitchen, and then Lance teaches Hunk how to make _pastelitos de guayaba y queso_ , and Hunk tries to teach Lance how to make things like baked Alaska or something equally fancy. And then they go work on the twins’ robot, or hang out in Lance’s room and listen to music, or take Pilar’s old bike and Lance’s skateboard and ride around the neighborhood until it’s too dark out to see where they’re going.

“I’ll have to see what’s going on back home,” Hunk replies. “Are you sure I’m not overstaying my welcome? I mean, I’m over at your house more than I am at my own.”

“Don’t even think about worrying about that,” Lance says firmly. There’s no way he or anyone in his family would make Hunk go home when his moms are in the middle of one of their fights.

“I just don’t want your family to get annoyed at me,” Hunk says, shrugging without much energy.

“My family loves you, Hunk. Mami says you’re practically a fifth son to her.”

Hunk snorts. “Okay, I’ll see if I can. Thanks for always having room for me, Lance.”

“It’s not a problem, _acere_. Maybe we can have Keith and Pidge over, too.”

“Maybe…”

Hunk seems to be thinking about something, so Lance doesn’t further the conversation. Instead he hums an off version of one of the songs they’d listened to in his room last night.

“What do you think of Unknown?” Hunk asks finally. Lance frowns, turning to him curiously.

“I think he’s really cool, and I know that you don’t approve of trusting strangers, but I really think we’re getting close,” he says. “He’s opened up a lot in the last couple of weeks. He’s actually really sweet.”

“Really…” Hunk looks lost in thought, like he had back at the party when he was talking to Acxa. It’s starting to become a familiar look.

“Why did you ask? Did you find something about him?”

“What? No, I didn’t.” Hunk shakes his head. “I was just wondering if anything between the two of you changed. I don’t know, maybe you think he’s creepy all of a sudden or something.”

“Do _you_ still think that he’s creepy?” Lance asks. Hunk shakes his head again.

“No. I think that he should tell you who he is soon, though, before things get out of hand.”

Lance laughs nervously, playing with the zipper on his hoodie. “It feels like you’re talking to someone else, buddy. Are you doing okay? Did you sleep enough?”

“I’m good,” Hunk says. “Just thinking.”

* * *

 

“So.” Pidge steeples her fingers under her chin, a serious expression on her face. “Today’s the day.”

“What day?” Keith asks, looking between her and Lance. Lance rolls his eyes and sighs dramatically.

“Keith, it’s _the day_ ,” he repeats, raising his eyebrows. “It’s the egg drop!”

“Oh.”

Pidge has lost all her composure and looks like she’s seconds away from jumping up and down. “I can’t wait to meet our son,” she says.

“John Eggbert,” Lance whispers, a grin breaking out on his face. “I almost forgot!”

“Homestuck?” Keith asks, looking even more confused than before. Lance snorts.

“Of course _you_ would know what Homestuck is,” he says, rolling his eyes. “John Eggbert is what we’re naming our egg because Pidge is a fucking nerd.”

“What if it breaks?” Keith asks.

“Hey, have some faith! We wouldn’t have named him if we didn’t think he’d end up okay.”

“Yeah,” Pidge adds. “This is the year when we finally beat Hunk. The devices are scored on originality as well as function, and ours is as original as they come.”

Lance and Pidge’s egg drop device is a three-dimensional diamond outline made of straws and double-knotted together with elastic string _and_ twine. Suspended by more string in the middle of the diamond is a third of a paper towel tube with cotton balls and duct tape securing the openings. Of course they had to add a parachute, but other than that it’s one of the most original in their period.

“Hey, we haven’t seen yours yet,” Pidge says, glancing up at Keith. “Are you entering the contest?”

“I guess so,” Keith says. “I filled out the paper, and then I left it somewhere, so I don’t really know what’s gonna happen with it.”

“Relatable,” Pidge says. “But I’m sure either way, it will be totally fine. And at least you got to finish yours. Matt got so distracted with his secret project that he forgot to put his parachute on, and now it’s too late to un-enter it, so he’s just hoping that nobody knows that it’s his.”

“Don’t they announce the names of the creators when they drop them?” Lance asks.

“Yeah. He’s kind of deceiving himself.”

Keith snorts. “Have you heard anything new about this ‘secret project’?” he asks.

“Literally nothing. He says it will be done soon, which is good because I’m kind of getting fed up with it. He’s working on it in his room, and I can hear whatever’s happening in there from _my_ room, and it’s fucking loud.”

“Your house is _nothing_ compared to mine,” Lance scoffs. “Pilar’s on the phone twenty-four seven, getting ahead of finals and stuff, and Vi keeps bringing her friends over, and Luis has a girlfriend or something, so it’s all kinds of crazy.”

“So, are you ready to steal Hunk’s title as Egg Drop King?” Pidge asks, setting her bag down at their normal table. Lance sits next to her, with Keith on his right.

“I was born ready,” Lance replies, cracking his knuckles.

“Ew! Ugh, why do people _do_ that? It’s unnatural.” Pidge wrinkles her nose, then turns to unpack her bag. “Anyway, the egg drop is gonna happen during lunch and part of third period, so it’s not like we’ll know who wins for a while.”

“Who judges the competition?” Keith asks. “Is it the teachers, or do the kids vote on it or something?”

“Ms. Sauceda and her panel of seniors fill out rubrics or score sheets or whatever,” Lance replies, shaking his head. “If your egg survives, you get judged on a bunch of categories and then they choose the winner for each grade based off that.”

Keith frowns, looking between him and Pidge. “Which grade level are you guys being judged for?” he asks.

“Sophomores. I’m an honorary one,” Pidge explains proudly.

“Hunk’s won every year since sixth grade, right?”

Lance nods. “It’s one of his many talents. He always has the best designs.”

Pidge checks her phone, opens one of her notifications, and smiles. “It’s Alana,” she says, not taking her eyes off the screen as she types out a response. “She says her egg drop thing is gonna destroy ours.”

Lance rolls his eyes and turns back to Keith. “She’s been talking to Alana on the messenger non-stop since the party,” he explains. “I keep telling her to just ask her out, but she refuses to do it.”

Keith looks uncomfortable, probably because of the mention of the party. Lance wonders if he’s still upset about being abandoned, or if he’s just being awkward because of Lotor sitting at their table yesterday. So far they haven’t brought either up again, but right now feels like a good time to apologize again.

“Hey, I’m sorry again about leaving you alone at that party after I forced you to come,” Lance says, hoping he can make Keith relax. “I got distracted talking to Unknown, and by the time I came back, you’d already left.”

His words seem to do the opposite of their goal--Keith looks even more tense than he had before. “Right,” he says, shoulders stiff. “It’s okay.”

“But at least _something_ good came out of it. I mean, we met your sister, Pidge got a sort-of girlfriend, and we’re really close to finding Unknown. I’m so ready to finally know who he is.”

Keith stares at the table, completely frozen.

“Is something wrong?” Lance asks, frowning at his expression. “Was it something I said? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, you didn’t,” Keith assures him, although he still looks uncomfortable. “Um, did _I_ do anything wrong? I mean, anything that would, like, upset you?”

“What? No, of course not.” Lance is even more confused. “You and Hunk have both been acting really weird today.”

“How exactly was Hunk…acting weird?” Keith asks hesitantly, looking down at the table. Lance watches him run his fingers across the scars in the cheap plastic table for a few seconds before answering.

“He was just being all spacey and asking weird, specific questions. I kept asking him why he was acting all out of it, and he just waved me off every time. He kept mumbling something that was like, ‘it’s not any of my business anyway’, and then he went to Modern World History.”

Keith sighs, and his shoulders sag. It looks like the information that Hunk’s all weird has gotten Keith back to somewhat-normal (which basically _is_ normal for him). Lance frowns and decides that Pidge is the only one with any sense today.

He looks over and sees her bent over her phone, typing furiously with a stupid smile on her face. Never mind his earlier statement; all of his friends are insane.

* * *

 

_11:42 am_

_Hunk-a-saurus: Are you ready to get DESTROYED???_

_pidge: as if!_

_pidge: Lance and I are gonna kick your ass this year._

_Mattt: god i hope they dnt call my name out when they drop mine_

_pidge: we’re praying for you, Mattie._

_Hunk-a-saurus: Like that would even do anything_

_Hunk-a-saurus: We’re pretty much all sinners by one definition or another_

_pidge: yeah, but who’s to say which definition is right and which is wrong?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Oh my god, will you guys shut up?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: We’re supposed to be watching the middle schoolers do their things_

_Hunk-a-saurus: I am watching!_

_pidge: and typing at the same time?_

_Hunk-a-saurus: Hypocrite_

_pidge: hey, Matt and I have four eyes, so we can keep two on the screen and two on the egg drop._

_Mattt: i can cnfrm_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: This next one looks interesting_

_Hunk-a-saurus: Bet it won’t survive_

_Mattt: same_

_pidge: I have no faith in it._

_Hunk-a-saurus: OOOOHHHHH_

_pidge: oh my god, it’s everywhere._

_Mattt: HAHAHAHA_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Okay, that was pretty cool_

_pidge: cool as in cold like the hearts of the losers?_

_Hunk-a-saurus: I hope you’re ready to be as cold as them soon_

_Mattt: u guys r terrible at trash tlk_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: These are middle schoolers, they don’t need to be trash talked_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Also they’re not allowed to enter the high school competition part so they’re all losers_

_Mattt: well what does it matter_

_Mattt: we all know hunks goin 2 win anyway_

_Hunk-a-saurus: Thank you, Matt_

_pidge: my own brother, turned against me._

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Matt, how could you?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Also, Keith says hi_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: And that he’s on our side, Pidge_

_pidge: you two seem to be getting cozy lately_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: What do you mean?_

_pidge: oh, it’s nothing_

_Hunk-a-saurus: Pidge…_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: What? Is this why you were being so weird this morning?_

_Hunk-a-saurus: I wasn’t being weird_

_Mattt: you should ad him 2 the chat lance_

_Mattt: he shld c this stuf_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: He got locked out of his messenger account_

_Hunk-a-saurus: Hey, Matt, I think they’re about to start tossing down the high schoolers stuff_

_Hunk-a-saurus: Excited to see your egg die?_

_Mattt: yeah yeah i kno_

_pidge: that was his story a few weeks ago though, wasn’t it?_

_Mattt: hes been locked out of his accnt for this long?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: He probably doesn’t want to ask the tech guys to reset it for him_

_pidge: well, that could be it…_

_Hunk-a-saurus: You’re probably right, Lance_

_Hunk-a-saurus: Did anyone else hear that Mr Shirogane has a crush on Ms Boatema?_

_pidge: yeah, everybody knows that._

_Mattt: did keith say what his msnger name was?_

_pidge: try emo-mullet-kid-rawr-xd-13._

_Hunk-a-saurus: It’s probably just Keith-Yeun_

_Hunk-a-saurus: I think he said he got locked out at the beginning of the year_

_Mattt: thats a fucking long time 2 go without using the msnger_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Hunk why are you being so forgiving?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Or whatever the word is_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Trusting_

_pidge: yeah, usually you’re the first to theorize about people you don’t know too well._

_Hunk-a-saurus: What do you mean?_

_Mattt: well you didnt trust unknown at 1st_

_Hunk-a-saurus: That’s not true_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: And you’re always suspicious of strangers_

_pidge: yeah, you were even wary of Keith at first, weren't you?_

_Hunk-a-saurus: I have good intuition, that's all_

_pidge: no, it’s more than that_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Maybe you just got a lot closer to Keith than any of us noticed_

_Hunk-a-saurus: Trust me, you’re a lot closer to him than I am_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: You’re being really weird, dude_

_Hunk-a-saurus: Sorry, sorry_

_Hunk-a-saurus: I’m tired. Just overthinking things_

_pidge: we get it. it’s okay._

_Mattt: ohhh fuck theyre gonna call mine soon_

_pidge: I’m so ready to see that._

_Mattt: promise u wont laugh_

_pidge: I promise that I won’t laugh around you_

_Mattt: ill take what i can get_

_pidge: I wish you were like that about your punctuation._

_Mattt: -!(((p’u’n’c’t’u’a’t’i’o’n;,, (((i’s;,, (((f’o’r;,, (((l’o’s’e’r’s.?!_

_pidge: I’ll take what I can get._

* * *

 

_11:54 am_

_unknown: was that one yours?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Yep_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Pretty cool, right?_

_unknown: did the egg survive?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Don’t know yet_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Hold on_

Lance glances up at Pidge, who’s gone to check on the egg. “He’s alive!” she yells at him, holding up the egg, the black marker face now smudged and faded. He grins at her half-heartedly and turns back to his messages.

_11:55 pm_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: It survived_

_unknown: you don’t sound too excited about that_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Just not in a celebrating mood_

_unknown: celebratory_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Yeah_

_unknown: more lotor stuff?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Actually, no_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: My friend is being really weird_

_unknown: weird how?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I think he might be keeping something from me, and I don’t like it_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Hunk and I never keep things from each other_

_unknown: maybe it’s something personal_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Still_

_unknown: do you think somebody else asked him to keep quiet?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Maybe, but it’s still weird_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I think whatever he’s hiding has to do with me, at least a little bit, or he wouldn’t be acting weird_

_unknown: i guess that’s true_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: And his parents are fighting a lot, which could be part of it_

_unknown: so that’s what’s bothering you?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Well, my sister keeps trying to get me to come with her to this place that I really can’t go to, like, ever_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: So there’s that, too_

_unknown: do your friends know that that’s happening?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: A little bit, not really though_

_unknown: have you lied to them about it?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Just to make sure they don’t worry about me or anything_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Does that count as keeping something from them?_

_unknown: i don’t know_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Am I overreacting?_

_unknown: i don’t know that, either_

_unknown: i’m sorry_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Don’t be_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: So, how’s that guy you’ve got a crush on?_

_unknown: i don’t know_

_unknown: he’s been distracted lately_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Are you gonna ask him out?_

_unknown: no way_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself; Aw, come on_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: It’s at least worth a try_

_unknown: right, sure_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: The worst that can happen is him saying no_

_unknown: and then never talking to me again_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: If he’s a decent guy, he won’t do that_

_unknown: i’d rather not take my chances_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Whatever happens, you can always come to me_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I’m not really a fighter but if the guy is rude, I’ll punch him for you_

_unknown: i guess you’re right..._

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Want to practice with me?_

_unknown: do you want to go out with me?_

The response comes so quickly that Lance wonders if Unknown had been typing it before he suggested practice. Then again, Unknown is a pretty fast typer, and it’s not like it’s a complicated sentence to write. Putting that thought out of his head, he types out a reply.

_12:03 pm_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?_

_unknown: can you just forget i said that?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: No, that was good!_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Just go up to the guy and say that_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Or you could do it over the messenger if you feel more comfortable doing that_

_unknown: practicing was a bad idea_

_unknown: i have to go_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Are you gonna ask him?_

_unknown: no_

_unknown: i need to go_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Is something wrong?_

When no response comes, Lance sighs and shuts off his phone. He feels like he did something wrong, but he can’t quite put his finger on what it was. Still, he knows he’s missing something--something obvious, right under his nose.

He turns to ask Keith if his device has been dropped yet, trying to put the conversation with Unknown out of his head and get rid of the sudden empty feeling in his chest. The two of them had sat together with Pidge, since they’re all in the same class, but Pidge hasn’t re-appeared since she went to pick up John Eggbert. Lance wonders if Keith ever feels the same as Unknown, like everybody’s pulling away from him and becoming distant. Briefly, he resolves to spend more time with Keith one-on-one.

But Keith has disappeared into the crowd, and the emptiness inside Lance’s chest grows a bit more.

* * *

 

“Lance,” Allura says, stopping by his desk, “can you go to the art room and ask Ms. Khalsa for poster paper? We need about fifteen sheets, the bigger the better.”

“Sure,” Lance says, sliding his notebook over his note paper. He doesn’t need Allura asking about his list of possible suspects for Unknown’s true identity. (So far he hasn’t come up with a lot, spending most of his time debating whether or not to put Lotor’s name on the list or not.) So far the list reads:

_Who is Unknown?_

_-_ ~~_Lotor_~~

_\- Aiden_

_-_ ~~_Hunk_~~

 _-_ ~~_Lotor_~~

_\- Rolo_

_\- Lotor_

“And if you could stop in the storage room on your way,” Allura continues, breaking him out of his trance, “we’re in desperate need of some new bar erasers. Would you mind?”

“Not at all,” Lance replies, taking the key she hands him. He glances at the board on the way out, trying to catch up on the lesson he’d missed. _Why do semicolons matter?_ is written in Allura’s loose half-cursive.

He turns the corner and takes the stairs down to the art room. There’s a studio art class in session (he knows because Matt and Keith are both in it) so he plans to just go in quietly, get the supplies, and be back in five minutes. But when he sees the large, red paper mache lion in the center of the room, he stops dead.

The lion is maybe four feet tall, with a mane like Matt’s bedhead and sharp, metallic claws. It’s unfinished, so parts of the hollow wire frame are still visible, but most of it is covered in a thin layer of newspaper, magazines, and…

Library receipts.

“Hey, Lance!” Matt yells from across the room, and Lance looks up and around so quickly that he almost gets dizzy. _He’s in here. I’m so close to him, but I still don’t know who he is!_

“Lance?”

Matt is looking at him strangely, and Lance realizes that he’s just been standing silently in a classroom that’s not his for two or three minutes, staring at a large red lion.

“Yeah, hey,” he says, walking over to Matt’s table. “What’s up?”

Matt holds up his phone, where Pidge is spamming him about the egg drop. “She says that next year is _definitely_ her year, and Hunk better watch his back.”

“Second place isn’t the worst thing in the world,” Lance says, shrugging. “Plus, I’m happy that Hunk won.”

“Yeah, so’s he. I think it’s good for Pidge to be knocked down a peg once in a while.”

Lance snorts, then remembers Unknown. “Hey, do you know who’s lion that is?”

Matt taps his paint brush against his chin a few times, thinking. “I’ve seen _somebody_ working on it, but I don’t quite remember who…”

“Matt, this is serious! I think whoever is doing it could be Unknown!” Lance explains, waving his arms frantically. To be _this close_ and still not have an answer is infuriating.

“Just ask Ms. Khalsa or something,” Matt says, although he does seem more interested now. “She knows who everyone is and what they’re doing for their project.”

“I don’t want to talk to her about it,” Lance says. “She’s kinda rude to me just because I don’t like the way she teaches.”

“Well, it’s either that or wait until next Tuesday to find out,” Matt says, motioning to the clock above the wall. “Class is out soon.”

“But I’m _so close_ ,” Lance says. “I’m _this_ far away from knowing who Unknown really is.”

“What about Unknown?” Keith asks, drying his hands on a paper towel as he joins them.

“I think that the slip of paper I found from that picture Unknown sent me came from that lion,” Lance says, perching on the edge of the table. “He’s probably in this class, and I still don’t know who he is! It’s driving me insane.”

“I told him I’d keep an eye out for his lion boy,” Matt says, winking at Keith (who just frowns back.)

“Does it even really matter who he is?” Keith asks, turning to Lance. He’s not frowning anymore, but he looks frustrated--or maybe exasperated is a better word for it? “If you like talking to him, why do you even need to put a face to the personality?”

“Because Lance thinks he might be cute,” Matt supplies.

“Because I want to know more about him _personally_ , and he won’t tell me anything if he’s trying to stay anonymous,” Lance snaps, glaring at Matt. The older boy just shrugs and goes back to his work.

Before Keith can say anything in response, Lotor appears next to him, long hair tied back in a low ponytail.

“Mind if I borrow this?” he asks Keith, gesturing to a bottle of paint thinner with his red-stained fingertips.

“Sure,” Keith says, handing it to him. “How’s your project going?”

“Oh, it’s alright,” Lotor replies. “Your paper mache idea was smart. Doing this with clay would have taken much longer.”

Lance glances away from their conversation, towards Matt (who is rolling his eyes at them.) He looks down at the cheap table, covered in years worth of every medium in the room, then back up. Lotor is heading away to his table, paint thinner tucked under his arm.

And then it hits him: Lotor is in this class. Lotor has red paint on his hands.

Keith is frowning at Lotor and leaning as far back in his chair as he can, but Lance is barely paying attention to what he says, because _what if Lotor really is Unknown?_ What if Lotor doesn’t acknowledge him because he’s trying to hide who he is? What if he _did_ hear Lance in the cafeteria two weeks ago and now he’s trying to get to know Lance without all the pressure from his friends? Maybe he got a messenger account from somebody who graduated but stayed in the system, or maybe it belongs to one of his friends. Lance has heard of people doing things like that before.

“He’s weird,” Keith says as Lotor leaves. “Ezor came up to me in class earlier, too. And Acxa’s been talking about me joining them for lunch sometime.”

“Maybe they’re trying to recruit you?” Lance suggests, trying not to let his jealousy show. “The Princes are pretty exclusive, man. If they offer again, you should accept.”

“They’re Acxa’s friends,” Keith says. “Of course they’re nice to me.”

“Seems like more than that to me,” Matt says. Lance swallows.

“Maybe he’s into you or something,” he says, aiming for casual. “It’s not hard to imagine.”

“I really don’t think that’s it,” Keith says. “So they’re being nice to me. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Lance rolls his eyes. “Of course _you_ would say that. They’re like the most powerful group in the school, dude. Lotor and Narti are president and vice president of the student council, Zethrid is the school’s star athlete, Ezor is the captain of the cheerleading squad _and_ the most popular girl at the Garrison, and Acxa’s ruthless and powerful, like a character in an action movie or something. That’s why they’re called the _Princes_ ; they’re the royalty of the school.”

“I think that’s going a little far,” Matt says. “Lance worships the ground they walk on, so of course he’d say that,” he adds, directing the last part at Keith.

“If they’re so great, then what would they want with me?” Keith points out. “I’m hardly a star here or anything.”

“That may be true, but Lance _does_ kind of have a point,” Matt says. “You’re a lot like Acxa and the others. You’re smart, you’ve got weird hair, and you’re kinda standoffish. You fit all their other requirements. You’re even emo like them.” Matt dodges another paint bottle attack from Keith, who glares at the back of his head. “Lance, are you here for a reason? I need to talk to my buddy Keith for a few minutes.”

“Oh, yeah, I was supposed to get paper.” Lance looks around the art room, hoping that a stack of poster paper will magically appear so that he doesn’t have to talk to Ms. Khalsa. Before he can find it on his own, though, the bell rings.

“Crap, how long have I been down here? Allura’s gonna be mad,” Lance says, hopping off the table.

“No, she won’t be. She knows you’re a good student, and if you tell her we sidetracked you, she’ll probably forgive you.”

“Hope so.” Lance stretches, cracks his fingers (because screw Pidge, it’s not unnatural) and waves to Matt, who has Spanish in the same room next. He waits while Keith packs up his things, then the two of them make their way upstairs.

“I’m actually gonna be in your Theater Arts class next,” Keith says. “Shiro volunteered me to help with set design and move props around during practice and stuff.”

“Really? Awesome, you could help Hunk and I run lines if you wanted to.” Lance grins, picturing Keith reading Duke Orsino’s long monologue at the beginning of the play. “We’re not quite ready to do full run-throughs yet, and nobody’s off script, but we’ve all been working pretty hard since Wednesday to get it done.”

“I can help if you want,” Keith says. “You’re going to be Valentine, right?”

“Yep!” Lance exclaims proudly. “And Hunk is Curio. It’s gonna be fire, dude, you should definitely come cheer us on.”

“When’s opening night, again?”

Lance laughs, shaking his head. “We put it on for the middle schoolers at the end of the school year in a few months, and then we have two performances for the parents and staff the next two nights. So I guess that’s what you’d call opening night.”

“Do you guys sell tickets or something?”

“Sort of. We accept three dollar donations or cans of food, since it’s all going to the food bank one way or another. The middle schoolers do the same for their talent show.”

Keith looks up at him. “I didn’t know you guys did the play for charity,” he says, something warm in his voice. Lance smiles, looking down at the floor.

“Yeah, well, it’s not like the school needs the money. They sued our old lunch food providers a few years ago over some spoiled milk or something and won a bunch of cash, so we never feel the need to get them more.”

Keith smiles. “It’s nice that you guys put so much effort in. I never saw this school as the charitable type.”

Lance snorts, shaking his head. “That’s because you hate the school, dude. But I’d do it even if it weren’t for charity. Acting is really fun for me.”

“I can see why,” Keith says. “You’re a really… passionate person. Very expressive. And you’re loud.”

“I’m Cuban,” Lance says with a shrug and a half-smile. “And yeah, acting is one of my passions, I guess, although it sounds really nerdy when I say it like that.”

“What are some of your other passions?” Keith asks, a teasing lilt entering his voice on the last word.

“I play soccer when it’s the season, and I really like to swim. I’m working as a lifeguard at the pool this summer, and I’m probably gonna try out for the varsity swim team next year. And I really like writing essays and stuff, especially on topics I’m interested in. I don’t think I’m any good at it, but it’s a hell of a lot more fun than my other homework.”

“Yeah?”

Lance nods. “I think I want to do something that has to do with writing when I grow up, if not theater. I don’t really know what I’m gonna study in college or exactly which profession appeals to me, but I figure that I can always get a job at McDonald’s or Goodwill while I figure it out.”

They reach the auditorium and Lance holds open the door for Keith. “What are you into?” he asks, realizing that he’s been going on for a while.

“Auto stuff,” Keith says. “At Galra Polytechnic, there was a class all about building and fixing cars. It was awesome. I like astronomy and stuff, too, but it takes a lot of work to become a professional astronomist, so it’s more of a hobby.”

“You like space?” Lance asks, excited. “I _love_ stars and planets and stuff! I don’t know any of the fancy terms, and I have a hard time remembering which constellations are which, but it’s just so _big_ , you know? It keeps me grounded sometimes, thinking about all of that.”

Keith smiles at that, and Lance realizes that it’s one of the few times he’s seen a true, uncovered, genuine smile from him. It’s nice, he decides.

“I know what you mean,” Keith says. “Some people get really scared thinking about space and the unknown and the possibility of an infinite void and black holes and darkness, but to me it’s just exciting. What if there are other life forms out there? There could be colonies that are ten times more advanced than ours, and we’d have no idea! Or there could be nothing at all for miles and miles extending on forever. I like that we don’t know what’s out there. It means there are infinite possibilities.”

Lance blinks a few times--fast--and then grins so hugely that it hurts his cheeks. “I think that’s the most words I’ve ever heard you say at once,” he says, briefly flashing back to their first real conversation.

Keith looks down, blushing. “Sorry. I just get excited sometimes.”

“No, it’s a good thing! I feel like I’m finally starting to get to know you.”

“Yeah, well…” Keith shakes his head, hair falling into his face. “You already know me pretty well.”

“We’ll have to go stargazing sometime,” Lance says. “Like a scene from a cheesy movie.”

Keith smiles again, another soft, bright, genuine one, and Lance smiles back. Making Keith smile feels weirdly good, just like the first time he’d ever had a full conversation with him.

“Keith! Lance!” Hunk exclaims, walking over to them. “I thought you’d never get here. Anything new?”

Lance shakes his head, although he’s not as annoyed about Hunk being weird right now. “Well, I did find out something about Unknown.”

“What? Really? What is it?” Hunk looks between Lance and Keith and back to Lance.

“We think that he’s in the Studio Art class during seventh period,” Lance explains. “There’s a giant red paper mache lion that looks like it’s made out of the same papers that I found in the trash.”

“And you don’t know who it belongs to?” Hunk asks, looking over at Keith, who shakes his head.

“Matt and I haven’t been paying very good attention to the other people’s projects,” he says sheepishly. “But we might know by next week.”

“Matt?” Hunk looks curious, but Keith waves him off.

“It’s fine, he might not even be in that class,” he says.

“I’m almost positive that he is. The paper matched, and the trash can I found it in is right between the second floor and the basement, so Unknown could have thrown it away on his way between the art room and a higher floor. I mean, it was the right day and time for him to be coming from Studio Art.”

“It could just be a coincidence,” Hunk says doubtfully. Keith shakes his head.

“It doesn’t really matter,” he says. Hunk looks between the two of them, then shrugs.

“Are you guys ready to practice? I want to run through the first scene a few times and see how much I can do off book.”

“Cool. Keith, you wanna read for Orsino?”

Keith sighs, rolls his eyes, and accepts the script Lance is offering him. His paint-stained hands open the cover of the paper booklet and smudge a bit of red on the inside as he scans over Duke Orsino’s role.

“I can’t believe you guys get credit for this class,” he says, flipping to scene one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, I love reading your comments and hearing what you guys think of Unknown so far. If you have any questions about the fic, whether it be writing process or inspiration or just a clarifying question, feel free to drop by [my Tumblr](https://djbunn3.tumblr.com/) and send in an ask!  
> [Pepple's artwork for Chapters 8, 11, & 12](http://pepplemint.tumblr.com/post/170237764370/so-a-billion-years-later-i-come-bearing-more-art) | [Pepple's artwork for Chapters 6 & 7](http://pepplemint.tumblr.com/post/167780883895/chapter-6-7-of-unknown-the-fic-i-got-to-work-on)


	9. Keith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for some light homophobia and a non-con kiss. It's just a homophobic jock making fun of certain lgbtq students, but I saw some people who were concerned about homophobic themes in Unknown, so this is a warning for them. If you read carefully near the very end of the chapter you'll be able to tell when it starts.

“Can I talk to you?” Hunk asks in a quiet voice, glancing around the room before turning back to Keith. It’s a Monday and they’re in second period Spanish, working on a poster of _los animales de la selva lluviosa_.

“Sure,” Keith says, matching Hunk’s quiet volume. “Is something wrong?”

Hunk shakes his head, drawing the curved line of a parrot’s beak on yellow construction paper. “It’s about Unknown,” he explains.

Keith stiffens. “Did you tell him?” he hisses, panic rising in his chest.

“Of course I didn’t,” Hunk replies, giving Keith an offended look. “I promised you that I wouldn’t, and I haven’t, right?”

“Right. Sorry.” Keith focuses his attention on cutting out the shape of a sloth from brown construction paper. “I trust you, I’m just nervous.”

“I get it,” Hunk assures him, glancing around the room again. It’s just loud enough for them to talk without being overheard, but not so loud that they have to raise their voices.

“So, what was it you wanted to talk about?” Keith asks, his nerves not quite gone. Hunk _had_ promised that he wouldn’t tell, and he _does_ believe him--Matt had figured it out on his own, both from the painted library slips and his sharp senses, and they’ve both sworn to keep quiet about it. But something about the way Hunk is bringing it up now sets him on edge.

“I think you should tell him that it’s you, dude,” Hunk says. Keith drops the scissors and turns to stare at Hunk like he’s lost his mind (which he probably has).

“Are you serious? You _actually_ think I should tell him?”

“Well, yeah.” Hunk picks up Keith’s scissors with a shrug and begins to cut out the beak. “I don’t think it’s a bad idea. He likes Unknown a lot, and he really wants to know who you are.”

“Yeah, he likes Unknown because Unknown is _mysterious_ ,” Keith says. “And because he doesn’t know it’s me. He thinks that Unknown’s some cool, edgy, cute guy, and that’s the only reason why he talks to me. As Unknown, I mean.”

“That’s definitely not why he talks to you,” Hunk says, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “He thinks that you’re cool, yeah, but that’s because he genuinely likes you. Maybe he’d be a little disappointed at first, but I think in the end he’d be grateful that you told him.”

“I’d rather not,” Keith says, resuming cutting out the outline of a tree frog.

“Well, then, what are you going to do? I mean, as much as I hate to say it, you can’t just talk to him through Unknown forever.”

Keith shuts the scissors harder than necessary, then looks up guiltily. “Sorry, I know. I just really don’t want to tell him.”

“I know you’re nervous about it, man, but it will be okay. Pidge and I are here for you, and even if Lance is upset, he’ll get over it eventually. He really likes being friends with you, both as Unknown and as Keith.”

“Sometimes it seems like Unknown is a lot closer to him than Keith, though.”

Hunk only shrugs. “Sometimes it’s easier to talk to a stranger than it is someone you know. Especially if the stranger is online. Then it’s easy to cut off the conversation.”

“Yeah?” Keith doesn’t feel much better, despite knowing what Hunk says is true. “I don’t know. Telling Lance…”

Hunk pats him on the back when he doesn’t continue. “Just think about it, okay? I think it could be good for both of you. It seems like you’ve been getting more and more jumpy the longer you keep it in. Eventually, something’s gonna give.”

Keith knows this. He also knows that even if he manages to keep his secret from everyone else and Hunk and Matt stay quiet, Lance is going to get bored with him. The novelty will wear off. He’ll stop messaging first, and stop answering when Keith does, and then he’ll drift away.

Once again, Keith considers the pros and cons of letting it happen. What does he really need Unknown for? He’s already friends with Lance, and unless he does something stupid, it will probably stay that way for a while. He doesn’t need to hide behind a fake personality to talk to Lance anymore, and the whole thing has already gone on for much too long.

But when he talks to Lance one-on-one as Unknown, it doesn’t feel like he’s faking anything. He still feels closer to Lance when he’s speaking as Unknown, but now it’s more than that--it goes the other way. Not only does Lance trust him more as Unknown, but Keith is more open and honest when he’s on the messenger. Ironically, it’s probably because of all the lies he’d told at the beginning of their friendship; he must have separated himself from Lance emotionally in an attempt to keep Unknown a secret.

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he flinches, not wanting to talk to Lance right now. He has a lot to figure out before he can trust himself with Unknown again--and he’d better do it fast.

Like Hunk said before: eventually, something’s gonna give.

* * *

 

That night, Keith finds himself bundled up in three layers (despite it being spring, it’s still fucking freezing at night) and following Pidge, Hunk, Matt, and Lance across a park with a telescope, an old tablecloth, a picnic basket, and some blankets split between the five of them. Lance had convinced everyone to come out stargazing, because although it’s a school night, the night sky is a lot clearer than it had been on the weekend.

He’d been surprised when his dad and Sarah had agreed to let him go so easily, especially because it’s the unofficial Yeun/Cadbury family game night tonight. Keith suspects that Acxa had something to do with it, but when he’d asked, she’d just shrugged it off. He’s bringing some homework with him anyway, so it’s not like he’s wasting the whole night doing nothing.

Not that stargazing with Lance could ever count as a waste.

Pidge and Hunk spread out the old tablecloth, and Matt sets up the telescope. Lance runs back to the Gunderson-Holts’ car and retrieves Lucy, the Fuentes family dog. Keith has a pretty bad track record with dogs--and an even worse one with cats--but Lucy runs up to him after circling Hunk and Pidge, shoving her nose into his leg.

“She likes you,” Lance says, eyes glittering happily. “Lucy has great taste in people.”

“She likes _everyone_ ,” Pidge complains, but she’s got a soft smile on her face that suggests she’s not really annoyed.

“All set!” Matt exclaims, gesturing to the telescope. “We’re lucky that mom found those extra lenses in the garage.”

Pidge looks through the telescope, adjusts it again (much to Matt’s protest), and nods in satisfaction.

“Now we’ve just got to wait a few minutes,” she says, looking up at the sky. “Hope the good weather stays.”

Keith’s phone vibrates again, as it has been all day. He shoves it deeper into his pocket, already knowing what it will be. Lance must really think that he’s onto something with the red lion, because ever since yesterday it seems like he’s been texting Unknown non-stop. Hunk, standing close enough to Keith to hear the faint buzz, gives him a meaningful look, to which he just shakes his head. _Not now._

“I don’t get it,” Lance mutters, his eyes fixed to the screen. “Maybe he broke his phone or something?”

“I doubt it,” Pidge scoffs. “He’s probably just busy, Lance. Give the guy some space.”

“I guess he is a pretty busy guy.”

Keith frowns, turning to Hunk again. According to everything he’s told Lance about himself, Unknown is a homebody without a social life. Where did Lance get the idea that he’s a busy person?

Hunk only shrugs in response, so Keith decides to put it out of his mind for now. He just wants a night free of Unknown, like he’d told Hunk in private earlier. If he’s really gonna fade out, he needs to know what it’s like to just be Keith.

“It’s getting dark,” Hunk says. “Lance, put your phone down.”

“Fine,” Lance sighs, reluctantly switching it off. Keith sits next to him on the tablecloth, Hunk and Pidge semi-sprawled out behind them, while Matt lounges on the edge, looking through the telescope.

“There’s one,” Pidge says, pointing to a faint glimmer in the dusk. “Or maybe that’s just an airplane.”

“Are we able to see Mars this time of year?” Hunk asks. “I feel like that’s Keith’s planet. Small and red.”

“Thanks,” Keith says, rolling his eyes. “What does that make you, Saturn? Because you’ve both got halos?”

“I thought you were gonna say because you’ve both got defenses,” Lance says. “You know, since Hunk hates strangers.”

“I don’t hate strangers!” Hunk protests. “I just get bad feelings about some of them. Usually I’m right, too, so there.”

“Pidge is Earth, then,” Matt says. “Green and full of technology.”

“Lance is Earth,” Pidge corrects him. “Blue.”

“That would make Lance Neptune,” Keith says absentmindedly. “The Sea King Star.”

Pidge snorts, trying and failing to make it sound like a coughing fit. Matt doesn’t even bother--he just tips his head back and laughs.

“I thought Neptune was the god of the sea,” Lance says quietly. Keith shrugs.

“Translated from some languages, it’s sea king star. I don’t know, I think it’s kind of cool.”

“How do you know so much about stars and planets?” Matt asks, glancing up from the telescope.

“I don’t, really. I took an elective about space at my old school,” Keith explains. “We focused on the Milky Way, but I was supposed to go into the advanced astronomy and astronomy this year.”

“I bet you could take some courses outside of the Garrison,” Lance says, turning back towards Keith. The light has been fading slowly, so Keith lets his gaze linger a little longer than necessary.

“I guess,” he says. “I haven’t really thought about it much.”

It’s gotten dark enough for the stars to become visible, so Keith turns his attention to the sky instead of continuing to stare at Lance. He connects a few constellations in his head, keeps an eye out for Mars, and eventually finds himself zoning out. It’s been close to ten minutes, during which he’d apparently lain down on the tablecloth. Lance is lying next to him, one arm shoved under his head, the other draped across his stomach. He looks really happy.

Actually, Keith feels pretty happy, too. He’s doing okay--no, better than okay. He got to talk about astronomy, he’s hanging out with friends for the first time all year (not counting the party), and he’s lying next to a gorgeous boy under a billion stars. He feels so good, in fact, that he lets his mind wander and linger on topics he hasn’t dared think about in a long time. Galra Polytechnic, first, and then his mom. He spends a few quiet moments reflecting on the day his parents told him they were splitting up, and then his thoughts turn darker. He hasn’t talked to his mom in months, and it’s been twice as long since he’d visited her in the-

“Hey.” Lance pokes his shoulder. “What are you thinking about? You look sad.”

“Not sad,” Keith replies, poking him back and finding that he’s not lying, despite the depressing thoughts. “Just zoned out.”

“Uh-huh, sure. I’ve known you long enough to know that this isn’t your zoned out face.”

“You’ve known me for like, less than a month.”

“Still.” Lance pokes Keith again, on his cheek this time. But he seems satisfied with having broken Keith out of his trance. “I hope you’re not thinking depressing emo thoughts, you nerd. I won’t tolerate it.”

And just like that, Keith’s good mood melts away. He doesn’t deserve this--Lance, his friends, any of it. He’s a liar and a creep, and Hunk is right; Lance deserves to know.

“Hey, I-” he begins, but before he can say anything else, Lance is sitting up and pointing at the sky.

“Look! A shooting star!”

“Huh?” Pidge sits up as well. “Holy shit!” she exclaims, shaking Matt’s shoulder. “Mattie, wake up!”

Keith watches the small, bright star move across the sky and disappear a few seconds later. Then he watches Lance stare into the sky long after it’s gone.

“Did you make a wish?” Keith asks when he finally looks away from the sky. It doesn’t feel like a good time to bring up Unknown anymore, not when the night’s been going so perfectly. Just one more day, one more good memory, and then he’ll tell Lance everything.

He was half-kidding when he’d asked, but Lance nods seriously.

“Can’t tell you, though,” he replies with a wink. “Then it won’t come true.”

“I bet he wished for Unknown to reveal himself,” Matt says with a smile directed towards the two of them. “Or something like that, anyway.”

Lance rolls his eyes. “You have no proof. Besides, I’m sure my wish is much better than yours.”

“It can’t be better or worse,” Matt says. “Because I didn’t make one.”

“What?” Hunk frowns at Matt, confusion clear on his face. “Why? Isn’t that like, bad luck or something?”

“I don’t believe in that stuff,” Matt explains. “Too messy. I like it when things are predictable.”

“You sound like Pidge,” Keith says, trying to joke away some of the guilt in his chest. “Do none of the Gunderson-Holts believe in stuff like this?”

“I’ll believe in anything if it gets my Latin paper done,” Pidge says, then tries to crack a smile. Her voice is tired and strained, like she might not have been joking.

Hunk seems to have caught on as well. “Pidge, what do you mean?” he asks, frowning. “I thought your Latin paper was almost finished.”

“It’s not,” Pidge says shortly. “I haven’t even started, and it’s due in two weeks. I keep telling myself that I’ll get it done, ‘cause I always do, but I’ve been saying that for weeks and it hasn’t happened yet. I _can’t_ fail this class.”

Hunk pats her on the shoulder sympathetically. “Pidge, you always get through this stuff. You’re a genius.”

“I’m not a genius!” Pidge snaps, flinching away from his hand. “I’m a freshman! It’s not supposed to be this hard!”

“Pidge!” Matt exclaims. Keith is suddenly very glad that he didn’t tell Lance today--Pidge clearly needed this.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m sorry Hunk, I didn’t mean to yell at you.” Pidge takes off her glasses and rubs at her eyes furiously. “I just hate failing. I hate it, I can’t stand it, I just-”

“Pidge,” Lance says, his voice soft. “It’s okay. It’s okay if you fail, and it’s okay if you hate it. But if any of us can do anything to help you, you know that we will, right?”

Pidge half-snorts, half-sniffs. “Yeah, I know. That was fucking cheesy, by the way.”

“I know, I know. But if it ain’t broke…”

Hunk rolls his eyes at Keith, with a little smile to show that it’s all good now. Keith smiles back.

“I bet Shiro can help you with your paper,” he says. “He speaks some Latin, I think.”

Pidge sniffs again. “It’s not the Latin that I’m having trouble with, it’s the motivation. I just don’t feel like doing it.”

“What’s the paper on?” Matt asks.

“The general topic is botany, since the teacher used to be a botanist or something, and that’s why she knows how to speak Latin. But we’re supposed to choose a more specific topic and do in-depth research on it. How am I supposed to come up with an original, specific topic on botany? I don’t even like nature.”

“We’ll help you,” Hunk promises. “I like botany sometimes.”

“Thanks.” Pidge glances up at the sky, still clear and filled with countless stars. “I feel stupid about using my wish on that, now.”

“That’s not a stupid wish,” Hunk says, shaking his head. “If it makes you feel better, I used mine on winning the egg drop again next year.”

“In your dreams,” she scoffs, softly punching him in the arm.

“If I _did_ make a wish, it would probably be for Beybey to live forever,” Matt says, shrugging. “Or at least until we die.”

“Who’s Beybey?” Keith asks, leaning closer so Lance can hear him. “Does Pidge have another sibling or something?”

“Nah,” Lance replies, grinning. “He’s the Gunderson-Holts’ dog. Think of like, a really big, white bull terrier if its body were combined with a whippet.”

“He sounds… cute?”

“What about you, Lance?” Hunk asks, turning his attention to them.

“I told you guys, it was probably about Unknown,” Matt says, ignoring it when Pidge elbows him. “Or about Lotor.”

Surprising all of them, Lance shakes his head. “Actually, you’re wrong,” he says, playing with the edge of the tablecloth. “It wasn’t about either of them.”

“Really?” Hunk looks to Keith this time, who shakes his head and shrugs. “What was it about, then?”

“Uh…” Lance twists the fabric in his hands nervously, his eyes downcast. “I… I can’t. Sorry.”

A general understanding seems to fall amongst the four of them, Keith excluded. He catches Pidge’s eye, and she looks away guiltily. He wonders if this has anything to do with a conversation he’d had earlier with Lance--well, between Lance and Unknown--about a topic from his past resurfacing recently.

The group sits in silence for almost half a minute before Keith speaks up. “I wished for everyone else’s wishes to come true,” he says, leaving out the part about Unknown never being found. Lance snorts.

“Yeah, okay, Skye Penderwick,” he says, rolling his eyes (although he looks relieved at the change of subject.)

“I feel like I’d find that a whole lot sweeter if Hunk’s wish wasn’t to one-up me again,” Pidge says, mock-glaring at Hunk.

“It’s not like I need the extra help,” Hunk replies, grinning. Pidge squawks indignantly, turning away and crossing her arms.

They stay out probably much too late, trading stories about people in their classes or memories of embarrassing things that had happened over the years. Hunk teases Pidge about the egg drop, and Lance teases Keith about his mullet, and then they all try to get Matt to tell them about his secret project. Nobody mentions Unknown for the rest of the night, and by the time they pack up and head back to Pidge and Matt’s car, it seems that both Pidge’s middle-of-semester freak out and Lance’s wish are forgotten. All in all, Keith thinks as he climbs the steps to his bedroom door, it had been a perfect night.

So why does it feel so wrong?

* * *

 

Keith’s phone has vibrated against the table a total of seven times by the time Lotor asks if he’s going to respond to it. He glares, shoots an apologetic look at Mae (who smiles reassuringly and waves him off, the angel) and then grabs his phone, holding it under the table as he reads through the notifications.

_8:11 am_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: You know, I still don’t know which classes you have and when_

_8:20 am_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Is it weird that I feel really close to you but I know like nothing about you?_

_8:40 am_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Do you take Modern World History? Which revolution are you studying?_

_8:49 am_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I’m doing the Cuban revolution with Shay and Pidge_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: We’re doing really well so far_

_8:52 am_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Pidge says you’re probably not responding because you’re busy and I’m just annoying you_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Am I? You can tell me_

Keith sighs, shaking his head. Just his luck. As soon as he decides to let go of Unknown, Lance gets unexplainably talkative and clingy. He types out a quick _sorry, busy, talk later_ that he only vaguely means, then turns back to his table.

Lotor is on his phone, frowning and typing something out as he glances between his screen and the school computer, while Mae is focused on her part of the research, vigorously taking handwritten notes. Keith will have to get her to add them to the shared online document later, but for now he’s just glad that she’s back.

His phone vibrates again, and he grabs it with too much annoyance-fueled force. The message on the screen reads, _Are you studying the agricultural rev?_

Keith glances a few tables back, where Lance is staring down at them. Panicking, he sets his phone down and tries to casually smile at Lance, even throwing in a little wave. Lance doesn’t seem to notice--if anything, it looks like his attention is focused a little to Keith’s left. Like he’s staring right at-

-at Lotor.

_Lance thinks that Lotor is Unknown._

The realization dawns on him so suddenly that he almost whips back around to stare at Lotor (which would be a suspicious move on anyone’s part, Unknown or not.) He settles for white-knuckling the edge of his chair and gritting his teeth, letting it sink in.

What does Lance know about Unknown? That he’s a boy, new to the school, and that he and Lance have never really had a real-life conversation (as far as he knows.) Obviously, many of the puzzle pieces don’t fit--Lotor isn’t shy, he isn’t new, and he probably wouldn’t care enough to hide his identity behind a fake name. But there are other things--the red paint from his Studio Art project, the vibrating cell phone at the party he was at, his attraction to guys. It’s not exactly hard to imagine Lance glossing over the inconsistencies of his theory, excusing them for this reason or that reason, in order to make a perfect fantasy where the boy he likes likes him back.

Keith feels sick. And then inexplicably angry.

“Come on, we’ve got to work,” he says, typing a little more violently than necessary. Lotor puts down his phone, looking equally frustrated. Instead of turning to his computer, he leans across the table so that Mae can’t hear them.

“Hey, Keith, do you have a moment after class?” he asks, not in the usual smooth, charming tone he reserves for getting what he wants. “I need to talk to you.”

“Sorry, I don’t,” Keith says, hitting the enter key with so much force that the folder he’s storing his notes in jumps an inch into the air. “Can we go back to work?”

He risks a glance at Lotor and sees him frowning deeper as he goes back to his research. Whatever’s going on that’s making Lotor and the rest of Acxa’s friends take such special interest in him--maybe his sister’s concern, maybe something entirely different--is driving the stake between him and Lance down even further. Now that he knows that Lance thinks Lotor is Unknown, he’s less worried about being found out, but the thought still makes him feel sick. _That’s_ why Lance is so interested in Unknown all of a sudden, and Keith isn’t above admitting that he’s hurt.

Instead of dwelling on thoughts of Lotor for even longer, he loses himself in work--his notes are perfect, complete, cited, and in order, and he’s finished the first five slides of the powerpoint by the time the bell rings. He throws himself into Physics much the same way--his egg had survived the fall and he’d even been given an honorable mention in the no-padding scoring category, which means he gets extra credit. He finishes his egg drop reflection and continues his essay on Newton’s first and second laws, and when he’s as far as he can get with that, he pulls out the Geometry homework that’s due the next day. Working through the rest of the morning helps him focus, and by the time lunch rolls around, he’s ready to organize his thoughts about Unknown, Lance, and Lotor, and make a new game plan.

Unfortunately, Pidge has other plans. By the time Keith sits down with his food, she and Hunk are already going over possible topics for her Latin paper, and with Lance and Matt jumping in with loud suggestions and opinions, he has a hard time focusing on a plan. So instead of coming up with ideas to get rid of Unknown, he spends his time watching Lance talk animatedly about the possibility of mermaids existing in real life. Pidge shoots the idea down, but Lance continues on for a solid six minutes before Matt suggests something different (and much more rational).

Before he knows it, Studio Art has started. Matt, having a better view of the hallway from his table than Keith does in the middle of the room, promises to keep an eye out for Lance in case Allura decides to send him down for art supplies again. But when a different sophomore (Shay, he thinks) comes down asking for poster paper and markers, Keith drops his guard. Knowing that Lance isn’t coming, he pours his attention into the lion--Red, he’s decided to call her. Red’s body is completely covered in newspaper by the time he’s finished, so the wire form doesn’t show. She’s got two coats of red paint, and he’s just finishing the outlines of her eyes and nose when the bell rings.

“Looks good,” Matt says, giving the lion a once-over. Keith shrugs.

“What are you going to tell Lance?” he asks, wiping his hands on a scrap of paper towel.

“I’ll tell him that no one worked on it today. A lot of people were doing the digital write-up stuff anyway, so it’s believable enough.” Matt’s half-smile drops into something more serious. “But he’s going to find out eventually.”

Keith glares, standing so that he and Matt are almost at eye-level. “Not if I can help it,” he says, eyes narrowed.

“I know you’re trying, dude. But even if he doesn’t see you working on Red, or put the pieces together himself, he’s gonna realize that we’re hiding something from him. How long can you keep this up?”

Keith stoops to grab his palette and brushes off the ground, then pushes past Matt with more force than necessary. “It doesn’t matter,” he says, monotone. “I’m letting Unknown go. If he knows what’s good for him, he will, too.”

Matt doesn’t respond for a second, but when he does, it’s not at all what Keith’s expecting. “Let Unknown go? Is that why you haven’t been answering him lately? Keith, no, you can’t do that.”

“Why not?” Keith snaps, almost throwing his supplies into the sink. They clatter against the paint-stained steel with a metallic clink as he turns on the water and starts scrubbing.

“Because Unknown is important to both of you,” Matt says. “Listen, Lance won’t give up on you--him--that easily. He’s invested long-term. If you stop responding to him, it could break his heart, and he’s still getting it together after-- after, um…”

“I know that something happened last year,” Keith grits out, rubbing paint out of the brushes with vigor. “You don’t need to tiptoe around it.”

Matt sighs. “Just listen, okay? We’ve all been kind of walking on eggshells around him since second semester last year. He’s been sensitive. Pidge, Hunk, and I, we’ve tried getting him to talk about it, but it doesn’t work.”

“What’s your point?”

Keith looks up from the sink. Matt is rubbing his nose, like he does when he thinks about something too hard. (Pidge does it, too.) “My point is that, for whatever reason, he’s more open to Unknown than he is to any of us. He _trusts_ you, Keith. Unknown has been a good friend to him over the last few weeks, and I’d hate to see that ruined.”

“Lance has other good friends,” Keith says. “ _Real_ friends. He doesn’t need me.”

“He _does_.” Matt says it with such belief and vigor that Keith almost lets himself turn around and ask _why._  “And you need him, too, you know. I’ve seen how you are around him, or when you’re talking to him on the messenger. You two have something special.”

Keith hits the sink handle, effectively shutting the water off, and whirls around to Matt. “Do you know why he trusts me?” he hisses, glaring up at Matt with all the festering anger he’s been ignoring all day. “Do you know why he still talks to me? It’s because he. Fucking. Thinks. I’m. _Lotor._  There’s nothing _special_ about that.”

He storms past Matt--or at least he intends to, but the older Gunderson-Holt grabs him by the arm and spins him around again with surprising force. He almost looks angry.

“You know, I don’t even think he _likes_ Lotor,” Matt says with a glare. Yep, definitely angry. “I think he’s taken every perfect romance fantasy that he’s ever had and forced it on some straight-A student with a pretty face because that’s what he thinks he wants. And you’re playing out one of his romantic fantasies, Keith, whether you intended it or not. So yeah, he might think that Unknown is Lotor, but it’s only because he _likes Unknown so goddamn much_.”

Stunned, Keith can only stare as Matt lets go of his arm. “Lance is complicated,” he says, turning away. “Don’t let that fool you, Keith.”

Keith seems to stand there for an endless period of time, just staring even after Matt leaves, but when he breaks out of his trance only a minute has passed. Lotor is standing in front of him, looking concerned.

“What,” he says, not having the energy to deal with Lotor’s strange antics right now.

“Keith. Is something wrong?”

“It’s fine,” he sighs, running a half-dry hand across his face. “Sorry, Lotor, I really need to get to class.”

“You’re still helping out in Theater Arts, right? That’s where I’m headed. I could walk you there, if-”

“ _Lotor_ ,” Keith snaps, brushing past Lotor and out into the hall. “I can walk to the auditorium on my own. Besides, I have to stop by Shiro’s room to tell him I’m volunteering again.”

“Well, we have time-”

“No!” Keith yells, spinning around and glaring. “Look, I appreciate the offer, but I’d rather just walk by myself today.”

“Oh.” Lotor looks taken aback, and for the first time it seems that he’s at a loss for words. “Alright. I’ll just-”

“Someone just got _rejected_ ,” a familiar voice singsongs from behind them. Keith and Lotor freeze, looking at each other with panic. This is bad.

“Don’t worry, Prince Lotor,” Quentin says, walking around to stand between the two of them. “There are _plenty_ of other people who’d love to hit that, when you’re done with your four wives.”

“Ew,” Keith mutters.

“And why would you care?” Lotor asks, tilting his chin upwards. His composure isn’t completely back, but even Keith can feel the power in the room shift the tiniest bit. Lance is right; Lotor is _powerful_.

“Oh, I wasn’t talking about _me_ ,” Quentin scoffs. “I was thinking of that kid Lance Fuentes. Remember, he totally outed himself to you like, twice? You _must_ have noticed.”

“Hey, stop being such a jerk,” Keith says, glaring up at Quentin. “You shouldn’t talk about people like that. You’re far from perfect, yourself.”

“Who even _are_ you?”

“Quentin, I know you adore attention, but causing a scene outside the classroom really isn’t one of your better ideas,” Lotor says, glancing around. The halls are filling with kids coming out of their classes to watch the confrontation, but Matt has yet to reappear, much to Keith’s dismay.

“Oh, come on! You aren’t getting stage fright now, are you?” Quentin spreads his arms and spins in a slow circle like a villain in a bad movie. “I thought you’d be used to having eyes on you by now, what with Fuentes always stalking you.”

“What?!”

Keith spins around, dread sinking through him as he sees Lance pushing through the crowd. Lance’s eyes dart from Quentin to Lotor to Keith once, twice, and again before he finally settles on Keith. He looks like he wants to ask what’s going on, but his mouth seems to be wired shut.

“Speak of the devil,” Quentin scoffs, zeroing in on Lance.

“Leave him alone,” Keith snaps.

“Yes, if it’s me you have an issue with, you shouldn’t take it out on them,” Lotor agrees. “I doubt you’d want to confront Keith, anyway. He’d be more than a worthy opponent for you.”

“Aww,” Quentin coos. “Hear that, Keith? Lotor thinks you’re worthy of me.”

“That’s… definitely not what I said.” Lotor looks between Quentin and Keith, looking for the first time like he isn’t sure what he should do. After four years of being in control of every situation, Keith figures Lotor must be feeling extremely lost.

But he can work it out on his own. For now, Keith’s main concern is getting Lance out of the situation entirely.

“Come on,” he says, turning to Lance and grabbing his wrist. “Let’s just go. He’s not worth it.”

“That’s sweet, new kid. You got a thing for Lance or something?” Quentin jeers, turning his attention to Keith. “You think Lotor gets taken down a few pegs and suddenly Lance will be all over you?”

“Do you? It would explain why you care so much,” Keith retorts evenly, turning back around and letting go of Lance. Several onlookers guffaw, but Quentin seems unbothered.

“I’m not a fucking _queer_ like you,” he says, “but even if I were, I’d have better taste than a traumatized loser, a cold-blooded freak, and _you_.”

“Shut up!” Keith yells, hands clenching into fists. _Traumatized loser_. Who does this guy think he is, talking about Lance like that?

“What? Are you mad I didn’t pick you?” Quentin leans closer as he talks, until their faces are uncomfortably close. “Don’t worry, hothead, it’s nothing personal.”

“Get away from me,” Keith growls, taking a step back. Quentin is the definition of a homophobic high school creep, with a track record of harassing students instead of letting them make him uncomfortable. He has yet to be suspended, but his reputation’s still gotten around--especially after what he’d said at the party. The point is, he’s creeping Keith out.

“Aw, give yourself some credit. You’re not _so_ bad,” Quentin says, and then he smirks and leans in, pressing his lips to Keith’s cheek with a disgusting wet smacking sound.

Keith doesn’t react the whole time that it’s happening, but as soon as it’s over, he pulls back his fist and swiftly punches Quentin in the jaw. Hard. Like, as hard as he’s ever hit someone before. The crack of his knuckles against Quentin’s face reverberates around the room, effectively shutting up the onlookers for all of two seconds before all hell breaks loose.

Quentin stumbles, off balance for less than a second before he punches Keith back. He’s not the captain of the football team for nothing--he’s strong and fast, he’s got good reflexes, and he’s _huge_ \--hardly a fair match for someone six inches shorter than him. But he’s not going to give up that easily. He fights through the pain reverberating around his left eye, swinging his fist half-blindly and managing to _really_ knock Quentin off balance.

The older boy stumbles back again, his legs making contact with a table, and for a second it looks like he’s going to fall. But then he’s steadying himself, pushing away a few helping hands and looking up with murder in his eyes as he prepares to lunge. Keith wonders if he’s going to die.

A prosthetic hand holds Quentin in place firmly. Keith glances up from the stare-off and sees Shiro, jaw flexing with barely restrained anger. “Quentin, Keith,” he says, voice unnervingly even, “come with me.”

Keith straightens up, touching the area around his eye and wincing. It’ll definitely bruise--if he’s lucky, his vision will stop blurring soon. Distantly, he remembers Lance’s black eye from a couple of weeks ago.

Shiro sets his other hand on Keith’s shoulder and steers him towards the hall to the principal’s office. His grasp is firm, almost too much so.

“You shouldn’t have been so damn infatuated with him,” Quentin spits out at Lotor, who’s just standing there, watching Keith walk down the hall with an unreadable expression. Keith’s eyes widen ( _ouch_ ), and his gaze darts to Lance, who looks just as shocked to have his suspicions confirmed. Shocked, and heartbroken, and… betrayed.

“Pick it up, you two,” Shiro says, voice regretful but stern. Keith lowers his head, breaking eye contact and trying to ignore the feeling of Lance’s eyes still on him, watching him disappear down the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this chapter! Sorry about the little cliffhanger type thing, there's gonna be a few of those in the coming chapters.  
> [Pepple's artwork for Chapter 8](http://pepplemint.tumblr.com/post/170237764370/so-a-billion-years-later-i-come-bearing-more-art)!


	10. Lance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: When Lance is talking to Pilar (and a little bit afterwards) there's some mentions of blood/hospitals and implied suicide attempts. Please read carefully or skip those parts if you think this may affect you!

“Lance, look at me.”

“I’m fine.”

“Dude, you’re not-” Hunk stops mid-sentence, sighs, and starts over. “I mean, _nobody_ would be fine after that. I feel like we should talk about this.”

“About my long-time crush being more interested in my new friend? And not bothering to defend me at all? Or about Matt not finding out who Unknown is because I seem to be the only one who cares?” Lance snaps, glaring down at his script.

“Um, what about all of it?” Hunk makes a general sweeping gesture. “You clearly need to blow some steam off. And while we’re at it, why don’t we throw in second semester last year, too-”

“ _No_.”

Hunk backtracks quickly. “Okay, okay. Maybe not that. But we should-”

“We should practice our lines,” Lance says, flipping open his script pointedly. “We only have a few weeks left until we’re supposed to be off script, and I don’t want to be the one to hold up the rehearsal.”

“Lance, Keith just _punched_ Quentin in the face for you!” Hunk exclaims, throwing his hands up in the air. “Unknown’s been ignoring you, Lotor is super weird, like usual, and Matt and I haven’t exactly been crystal clear lately, either. Are you really telling me there’s _nothing_ you want to talk about?”

Lance glares, shutting his script again with a dull clap. “You’re right,” he says. “You haven’t been clear with me. And I don’t have anything to talk to you about.”

Hunk looks pained, like he’s being pulled in opposite directions--stuck between a rock and a hard place. “You _know_ I hate not being honest with you,” he says. “If I could tell you right now, I would, I _swear_ …”

“Then why don’t you?” Lance asks, standing. He’ll practice by himself if he has to.

“It’s not my secret to tell,” Hunk says, watching Lance with his big, brown eyes. “You have to believe me, man, please…”

“Oh, come on. We _never_ keep secrets from each other. I thought we were close enough to tell the truth about this stuff.”

“We are,” Hunk promises, rising to his feet as well. “But the thing is… Well, someone else who’s close to you asked me to keep quiet.”

Lance’s glare turns into a frown as he thinks. It can’t be Pidge, who would never tell Hunk something without telling Lance as well. Maybe it’s Shay, although she and Lance have never been close. Matt is out as well, simply because he has no secrets, aside from the project he’s been working on lately.

A thought dawns on him, horrifying and heartbreaking, and he knows that it’s true before he even speaks. “Unknown…”

Hunk looks away guiltily, which only seems to make Lance angrier. “You know who Unknown is, don’t you?” he snaps, hands clenching into fists. His vision goes blurry for a second, but he blinks it away and continues to glare.

“I can’t tell you,” Hunk says quietly, his eyes downcast. “Lance, I-”

“You know _something_ about him, then,” he accuses, taking a step towards his friend. “I can’t believe- And you know how important this is to me, you _know_ how-”

He breaks off part way through the sentence, taking a large, shuddering breath. Hunk refuses to look at him.

“I know he’s important to you,” he says. “But I couldn’t say anything. I promised him, man.”

“Do you know who he is?” Lance asks again, but it sounds more like he’s begging this time. Hunk shakes his head.

“No,” he says, meeting Lance’s gaze. “Do you believe me?”

They stare at each other for a long time, searching, before Lance speaks. “No,” he says, and then he walks away.

* * *

Lance doesn’t speak to Hunk for the rest of the class, and Hunk doesn’t ask to come over after school. They part ways in tense silence after visiting their lockers, neither of them attempting to reconcile.

As he walks home, he wonders when Unknown became such a big deal to him. A couple of weeks ago, he was intent on giving Unknown however much time he needed to reveal himself, discouraging Matt from asking Mae about it and defending Unknown against Hunk’s concerns over and over again. But now it’s like he’s caught up in some huge mystery, and he’s not even sure if he wants to find out the truth.

Allie and Violeta are gone, and there’s a note taped to the fridge written in his dad’s loopy scrawl: _got home early, took A & V into town. c u soon <3 _

He skipped Drama Club today, only pausing briefly to hear an update on Keith from Pidge. (“They’re calling it self defense,” she’d said. “Keith wanted to take the suspension, but Shiro explained the, er, situation, and the principal let him off the hook.”)

He hadn’t had time to actually see Keith before he’d left, but from what he’s heard, there hadn’t been much else to say. Quentin kissed Keith against his will as a joke, and then Keith fought back. Lotor didn’t bother to defend either of them, although he might have just been too stunned to do anything. And then they’d gone to the principal’s office, and he hasn’t seen either of them since. It’s so straightforward, he shouldn’t feel so conflicted about it.

But he does. He feels angry, and sad, heartbroken, betrayed, embarrassed… And above all, even more confused than usual. Is Lotor _really_ into Keith, or had Quentin just exaggerated? Does Unknown know about the fight? (If he really is Lotor, he must.) Of course, gossip at the Garrison spreads like a contagion, but still, Lance is a little worried about the Garrison Gossip finding the story and turning it into something it’s not. After what happened last year, he figures he has the right to be concerned.

He grabs a banana from the kitchen and heads to his bedroom, wanting to get ahead on his Cuban Revolution slideshow, when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He wants to ignore it, especially if it’s from somebody on the group chat, but two minutes into deciding between blue and purple for the title slide it vibrates again and he gives up.

To his surprise, the messages aren’t from the group chat, Hunk, Pidge, or Unknown--the name on the notification reads _Mattt_. Lance frowns, confused. He and Matt don’t have private message conversations unless it’s about a school project. Matt has his own friends, most of which are juniors. Curiously, he opens the messenger and starts reading.

_3:21_

_Mattt: we need 2 talk about unknown_

_Mattt: lance answer ur damn msgs_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Not you, too_

_Mattt: dont b mad @ hunk_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: How did you know I was mad at Hunk?_

_Mattt: cuz ur not mad at pidgeon & ur not mad at me _

_Mattt: but ur still pretty fucking mad huh_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Forget it_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Why do you want to talk about Unknown?_

_Mattt: cause u think hes lotor_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: No I don’t_

_Mattt: lance cut the shit_

_Mattt: i saw u staring at his redpainthands the other day_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: So? That doesn’t mean anything_

_Mattt: n also i found ur list of psbl suspects_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: What?_

_Mattt: possible lance the word is possible_

_Mattt: fine i guess i cant talk in matt code for this_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Well, that list was incomplete_

_Mattt: lotors name was on there 3 times_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: It could be him_

_Mattt: no it couldnt_

_Mattt: lotor is a jerk and hes been here since eighth grade_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: He’s not a jerk_

_Mattt: are u serious lance_

_Mattt: he kinda provoked quentin and did nothing to help keith when they fought_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: He probably would have if Shiro hadn’t broken them up_

_Mattt: hes only looking out for himself_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Maybe that wasn’t what he meant to do_

_Mattt: so what then he just decided to leave keith to fight his battles_

_Mattt: u were there and we werent so i dont know how it really went down_

_Mattt: but from what ive heard there were cameras recording_

_Mattt: people say that lotor just stood there_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: What’s your point?_

_Mattt: u like unknown dont u?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Well yeah_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: He’s really different_

_Mattt: do u have a crush on unknown?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: No_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: You know I like Lotor_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Even if he isn’t exactly who I thought he was_

_Mattt: so ur 100% sure you dont have any romantic feelings for unknown_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I don’t know, Matt_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I like Lotor, okay? Don’t complicate it_

_Mattt: let me ask u this, then_

_Mattt: do u like unknown because u think hes ur o-so-perfect lotor?_

_Mattt: or do u like lotor because u think he’s unknown?_

* * *

They’re doing partner conditioning in P.E., which means (obviously) that Lance needs a partner. He still hasn’t spoken to Hunk, so he turns to Keith instead.

“Ready to go?” he asks, face cracking into a smile that he doesn’t feel. Matt’s question has been circling his brain ever since he’d been asked, and it had kept him up practically all of last night. It’s ridiculous; he’s had a crush on Lotor since Mae Plaxum broke up with him at the beginning of last year. A couple of weeks talking to some stranger on the internet isn’t going to change that. Even though he’s just been slapped in the face with the harsh reality that Lotor isn’t exactly as perfect as his mind had made him out to be.

“Yeah,” Keith says, already heading in the direction Brooks points them in. They start with wall sits, which have always been hard for Lance. He swims over the summer, and before they closed the Garrison’s pool, he’d been on the swim team as well. But it’s been a little while since he’s gotten any good muscle-strengthening exercise in, so it’s unsurprising when he slumps to the ground after thirty seconds.

Keith makes it a full fifty before joining him on the floor, and neither of them bother to move until Brooks whistles at them, and then they reluctantly wander to the small weights station.

“You’re pretty good at physical stuff,” Lance comments, grabbing a medium-heavy set of weights and starting on his military presses. “Do you go to the gym a lot or something?”

Keith snorts. “I like running, and I used to box.”

“You were a boxer? For real?”

“Kickboxer, I guess. We still have a punching bag and pads and gloves in the garage, but I don’t use it much.”

“Were you in a fight club or something?”

Keith shakes his head. “I don’t, uh, fight,” he says. “At least, I didn’t used to.”

Lance slows down, his mood sobering quickly. “Right. Of course. I didn’t think…”

“I know.”

They work in silence for the next minute, moving to the second set of exercises. Lance tries not to think about Quentin kissing Keith and Keith punching Quentin and Lotor doing nothing (and him doing nothing, too, because he probably could have helped Keith), but he does anyway. He wonders if Lotor would have hit Quentin too, if he’d had the chance. It’s not something he wants to believe, but…

Apparently Quentin had been suspended for three days because of the “prank”, but excused from the fight altogether because his parents had argued that “boys will be boys”. It makes Lance mad that Quentin got off that easily, but at least it means he’ll be out of their hair for the next few days.

He finishes the second set and checks the instructions on the sign above the weight bucket. “I bet I can do more dumbbell curls then you can,” he says, grinning. Just like that, the heavy tension in the air breaks.

“In your dreams,” Keith scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I could do them all day.”

“Oh yeah? Prove it.” Keith raises an eyebrow, but Lance just juts out his chin and shakes the weight in his hand. “Unless you’re afraid I’ll beat you.”

“Yeah, right.” Keith narrows his eyes competitively, but it’s clear that he’s fighting a smile. “Three, two, one, go.”

Lance keeps up well for the first thirty, but soon Keith is pulling ahead and showing no signs of slowing down. Lance manages another fifteen before his arms start to burn, and he finally gives up around fifty. Keith, already at sixty five, sets his dumbbells down as well.

“I win,” he says, smiling. Now it’s Lance’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Sure, okay. I bet I could beat you at whatever’s next, though.”

Keith looks around the gym for an open station. Most of them appear to be occupied by other duos, but the lanes reserved for sprints are free.

“To the other side of the gym and back, three times,” he says, gesturing to the far wall. “Got it?”

“Got it,” Lance replies, grinning. Keith had said that he likes running, but Lance _loves_ it. He has long legs, too, so he’s already got two advantages. “On your mark, get set, go!”

Lance wins the race by almost a full stretch, and feels so good about it that he runs an extra length as well. It proves to be a bad idea when he runs out of breath during their push-up competition, but he manages to get back at Keith during both the planking and sit-up contests. By the end of the period, they’re both exhausted and covered in sweat, but it’s one of the most rewarding P.E.s of the whole year.

“Who even won?” Lance asks, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. Keith laughs breathlessly.

“I think we tied,” he says.

“Cool. Neck-and-neck.”

They pass the corridor that leads to the art room, and Keith slows his pace a bit as he stares down the hall. “Lance…” he says, voice quiet, tone almost sad. Melancholy.

“We don’t need to talk about it,” Lance cuts in, shaking his head. It’s a selfish thing to say, really, but he doesn’t want to talk about it. He doesn’t want to believe it’s true. He wants Lotor to explain, and maybe apologize for letting things get out of hand as well. He wants everything to go back to how it was three weeks ago.

 _Three weeks ago you didn’t have Unknown_ , his brain reminds him. _Or Keith_.

Lance ignores it.

“We should,” Keith says, still looking down at the art room. They’ve stopped walking. “I mean, I know you must be upset, and- and I just wanted to apologize.”

Lance should say that it’s not necessary. That he should be the one apologizing to Keith for not helping him out. That it clearly wasn’t his intention to catch the attention of the guy Lance has been pining over for forever. But the words stick in his throat, refusing to come out.

“You know that I didn’t mean for that fight to happen, right? Quentin was saying all this messed up stuff, and I just got so mad-”

“I know.” Lance glares down at his shoes, refusing to look up. He’s being a jerk. He’s being _such_ an asshole to Keith, and it’s like he can’t stop. He should be apologizing, but his mouth stays firmly shut when he tries.

“Are you mad?”

“No.”

Keith looks just as unconvinced as Lance feared he would. “I don’t- I’m not good at this stuff, Lance,” he says. “I don’t know how to apologize for this.”

“Don’t apologize,” Lance snaps. “Just- drop it, okay? Just another thing to come between us.”

He’s finally voicing the thing they’ve both been feeling ever since they met--that there’s something getting in the way of a full-on friendship between them. Maybe it’s the way Keith suddenly starts acting strange for no reason at all in the middle of a conversation. Maybe it’s the fact that they met during a really bad time in Lance’s life. Maybe it’s just leftover tension because of Lotor. Whatever it is, it feels like it’s reached a boiling point.

“Maybe we should talk about this,” Keith says reluctantly, looking like it’s the last thing he wants to do.

“Maybe we should,” Lance says, just to be difficult. Something bad is coming--he can feel it.

“Hunk told me you guys got in a fight.”

“We did.”

“Over Unknown?”

Lance nods.

“Why?”

“Because Hunk knows something about him, and he won’t tell me,” Lance snaps, hating how childish it sounds. “I mean, we tell each other everything! The last time he kept a secret from me was years ago, and I don’t even remember what it was!”

“And when’s the last time you kept a secret from him?” Keith asks, raising an eyebrow. Lance frowns.

“I don’t keep things from Hunk,” he says defensively. “I just don’t tell him everything. If he asked…”

“When he asks you how you are, you say you’re fine and make a joke about not sleeping because you were too busy being in other people’s dreams.”

“Because I _am_ fine,” Lance huffs. “It’s usually not something he needs to worry about, anyway, so I just don’t mention it.”

“And you think that whatever Hunk’s keeping from you _is_ something you need to worry about?” Keith pushes. “I mean, maybe it’s personal.”

“If it involves Unknown, it involves me, too,” Lance says, scowling. “I think he knows who he really is, and that’s not exactly personal.”

“Jeez, does your whole life revolve around Unknown?”

Lance frowns, staring at Keith. He almost looks annoyed, and for a second Lance feels guilty for never shutting up about Unknown, but then his own annoyance overtakes him.

“You know, you’ve always been pretty negative about him,” he says, crossing his arms. “I mean, Hunk used to be all cautious because he doesn’t like meeting new people, and now he’s suspiciously quiet about it, but you’ve always just seemed… I don’t know, apathetic.”

Keith shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets and glaring at the floor. “Maybe I am.”

“Why?” Lance asks. “Everyone’s been so negative about him lately, like it’s such a bad thing to want to know him. It’s kind of getting on my nerves.”

“Well, maybe it is a bad thing to want to know him,” Keith snaps. “Maybe he’s a jerk like Quentin. Who knows, right?”

“Hunk does,” Lance huffs under his breath. Keith ignores him.

“I mean, maybe you should just let it go. You tried your best, and he got away. Big deal.”

“It is to me,” Lance says. “Unknown is… He’s really important to me. Why can’t you understand that? Why don’t you want me to find out who he is?”

Keith looks alarmed for a second, before his eyebrows draw together into a glare. “I don’t care. Ask him. Track him down. Do whatever. It doesn’t matter to me if you destroy all your real-life friendships along the way.”

“Well I- What?” Lance’s glare softens into a confused frown. “Is that what- Are you jealous of him?”

“Why should I be?” Keith sniffs, holding his head high. “At least I’m not a coward like he is. I don’t have to stalk people to make friends with them. And if I don’t care about him, it’s because I know he’s not important. I mean, you’re so obsessed with finding out who Unknown is that it’s all you ever talk about anymore! There’s more to life than fulfilling some delusional high school fantasy. You’re so unsatisfied with your life that you have to pin all your hopes on some internet creep you’ve never even met.”

Lance gasps, because out of all the things he’d ever thought about Keith--emo, angry, blunt, brash, antisocial, hotheaded--he’d never considered him to be a big enough jerk to say something like that.

“Have fun on your wild goose chase,” Keith says, turning down the hall and walking away. Lance stares at his receding back until it disappears down a flight of stairs, still shocked.

“Lance?”

It’s Pidge, tentatively waving her hand in front of his face. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Lance grits out. “At least I’m not an asshole, like your friend Keith.”

He barely hears Pidge’s quiet, “Oh, no…” before he’s stomping away, determined not to let another dick ruin his life. He’s already had more than enough of that.

* * *

There’s a gentle tap on his shoulder during fourth period, and then Allura is passing through the classroom, beckoning him to follow her to the front. Lance frowns; Allura is supposed to be teaching a class right now. She shouldn’t be here.

“I need to pull Lance out of class,” Allura is saying when he catches up to her. Her accent twists the A in his name, making it sound like ‘Lonce’, which always makes him smile, but the tension around him has him forgetting about it in less than a second. “It should count as an excused absence.”

Lance’s frown deepens as he looks between Allura and the doorway. He’s a TA this period, so it’s not like he’ll be missing much, but Allura knows as well as Hunk and Pidge do that he hates missing classes. And her tone is making him nervous, sober and low; it’s the voice she uses when she’s delivering bad news.

“What’s going on?” he asks after the teacher excuses him.

“You’ve got a… a visitor,” Allura finishes, trying to lighten the mood with a shaky and unbelieveable smile. “She caught me in the hall, and I figured that it would be best not to… involve anybody else.”

“But you have a class,” Lance says. English, period four. Both Keith and Hunk are in it.

“Well, this seemed important.” Allura quickens her step and pretends not to hear Lance when he asks why. They pass through two corridors and finally arrive at the front entrance of the school, where his ‘visitor’ is waiting on an old visitor’s bench. Lance inhales shakily, taking an almost involuntary step back.

“You’re excused from the rest of the class period,” Allura says gently. “I’ll leave you two to talk.”

Before he can ask her to take him back to his class--because he’s had the _worst_ week already, and he’d rather walk on hot coals then do this--she’s gone, and he and Pilar are alone.

“I miss this place,” she says, looking around the empty space. “Altea Academy is nice, but it’s nothing like the Garrison. Our mascot is a _castle_.”

Lance doesn’t respond, or laugh, or react much at all. Pilar’s smile falters for a second.

“You’re not going to run, are you?” she asks, and although it’s supposed to be a joke, he can hear the concern in her voice. And honestly, he’s considering it, but…

“I don’t exactly have anywhere to go,” Lance says, shoving his hands into his pockets. Pilar glances down at her lap, then pats the space next to her, but he shakes his head.

“I guess you know what this Friday is,” she says, running her fingers along the seam of the bench. Lance nods stiffly. Friday, May 11th.

“Look, I know you don’t want to talk about this. But it’s been a _year_ , Lance.”

“I don’t care how long it’s been,” Lance says, gritting his teeth. “You of all people should understand that.”

“But I _don’t_.” Pilar stands, walking over to him as she speaks. “Something bad happened to us, I _get_ that, but it’s getting better now. I don’t understand why you refuse to move on.”

Lance scoffs. “I _have_ moved on,” he says, although they both know it’s a lie. Moving on means going forward, not staying in the same place, and definitely not dancing around the subject like he’s been doing all this time.

“No, you haven’t. Not in a good way, at least.”

“I need more time.”

“You’ve had plenty of time!” Pilar snaps, surprising him. Her eyebrows draw together in an upset frown. “Friday is Flora’s birthday, Lance. What better present could she get than you coming to visit her for the first time since she was admitted?”

“Her old life back, maybe? Her _baby_? Not that I could give her either of those, anyway.”

He regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, but it’s too late and he refuses to backtrack. Pilar’s eyes go misty, her face breaking into a pained expression that probably mirrors his.

“Why can’t you just come with me?” she whispers sadly. “She wants to see you, you know. She asked about you last time I was there. ‘ _How is he?_ ’ and ‘ _Can he come visit soon?_ ’ You wouldn’t _believe_ how much better she’s doing. They’re even saying she might get discharged soon. Isn’t that great?”

“You shouldn’t have come here,” Lance says, glaring up at her. Pilar looks helpless, like she had those first few months before she’d finally realized that she couldn’t get him to talk.

“I wanted to ask you as soon as I could,” she explains, shaking her head gently. “I just got the okay from Third Sea, and I know you don’t want to come, but it’s been so long since you two have seen each other, and-”

“The last time I saw Flora, she was bleeding out in an ambulance,” Lance snaps, balling his fists tightly. “You weren’t there. You didn’t see what I had to! Do you know how horrifying it is to watch your best friend slowly dying in front of you? Because unfortunately, I do.”

“I _know_ ,” Pilar says, the fight draining out of her. “I know that. I just want it to be how it was before.”

Lance leans in, growling “It will _never_ be like it was before.”

And then he turns away, heading in the direction of his locker. He doesn’t want to go back to class, not now, but going home seems like an equally bad option.

“I really thought it would be different this time,” Pilar says. He makes the mistake of looking back--she’s still standing there, rooted to the spot, shoulders drooping. Her eyes shine with unshed tears and her lips are pressed together in a thin, wavering line. She looks devastated, like she might start crying any minute. “I thought… with the timing… and you’ve just seemed so much brighter lately…”

He turns back and keeps walking, making it out of her line of vision before breaking into a run. He only stops at his locker briefly, grabbing his book for English and shoving it in his backpack before heading towards the back doors. He has nowhere to go--not home, and certainly not back to school--so instead of heading to the right once he’s outside like he usually would, he turns towards the park where they’d all gone stargazing

As he walks, thoughts of the last year wrap their way around him, consuming him until his eyes blur over and spill hot tears onto his cheeks. _Florona…_

She’d been his best friend (as well as Pilar’s) for years and years alongside Hunk. They’d met when he was in fourth grade, Pilar in sixth, and Flora between the two of them in age. He’d instantly liked her turtle backpack and the purple feather in her hair--she’d been so cool for a fifth grader. And later, when he introduced her to the family for the first time, Pilar had instantly grown attached as well.

The four of them had grown up together, and when Pidge and her family had moved into town, they’d become a group of six. (Five-point-five, actually, because Matt went off to make his own friends as well.) Lance had even had a crush on Flora at one point, although it never really went anywhere.

Last year, something bad had happened. Lance never lets himself dwell on it, although he still remembers it with perfect clarity. The blood, the hospital room, the smell of drugs hanging heavily off her clothes. A cigarette hastily stubbed into the inside of a wrist. His own horrified scream upon walking into the bathrooms in search of his friend, having found her in the worst way.

He shakes his head, scattering a few tears on the sleeve of his hoodie. A distraction would be good right now.

Too bad that nobody’s there to distract him.

* * *

Lance is the one to break the silence between him and Unknown.

Granted, it wasn’t much of a silence, but it still feels like it’s been weeks since they last had a real conversation. He’s been sitting on a motionless merry-go-round for the past half-hour, debating whether or not to speak first. He starts half a dozen messages, deleting them all before he sends them because none of them are quite right. Finally he gives up on the dramatics and simply types _I’m mad at you_.

He _is_ mad at Unknown. For mysteriously disappearing on him, and for running off or not responding the last few times they’ve talked. Obviously he has no right to be mad at Unknown; it’s not like Unknown has an obligation to always be free for him, prioritize him first no matter what. But he’s in an angry mood--Hunk and Keith are mad at him, Matt’s avoiding him, and Pilar…

So he lashes out at the one person who’s been there for him. It’s an asshole move, especially considering that Unknown has been nothing but kind to him since they started speaking. Just because he’s grown kind of attached to Unknown, it doesn’t give him the right to be a jerk over two days of quiet. But Unknown has always been there for him until now, and illogically, it hurts that he’s not right now.

Less than a minute after the first message sends, he gets a response.

_10:14 am_

_unknown: why?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: You disappeared_

_unknown: i’m sorry_

_unknown: school’s been hell_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: We could get through it together if I knew who you were_

_unknown: i don’t think that’s such a good idea right now_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I think I know who you are_

_unknown: really?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I think so, maybe_

_unknown: and you’re not happy about it?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: No, that’s not it_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: If I’m right about this, then something is seriously off_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: And this has all been a joke or something_

_unknown: i wouldn’t do that to you, lance_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Well, how do I know that?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I don’t even know your name_

_unknown: but you think you do_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: But I want to know for sure_

_unknown: i’m sorry, i can’t_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: …_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: We can’t keep this up forever, you know_

_unknown: why not?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Because we’re barely keeping it up now!_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Unless you’ve just become remarkably busy in the last two days_

_unknown: what are you talking about? i told you i was busy_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: You’ve barely answered my messages, and you never start up the conversation anymore_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: You don’t have to keep talking to me, but at least tell me to my face if you’re going to stop_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Or not to my face, I guess_

_unknown: i don’t want to stop_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Then don’t!_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Because I don’t want to stop, either_

_unknown: you would if you knew_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: What’s that supposed to mean?_

_unknown: it means nothing_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I know you’re scared that I won’t like you in real life_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: But I know that I will_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: We’re a good team_

_unknown: you’re right_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Really?_

_unknown: we can’t keep this up forever, so why don’t we just stop now_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: What?!_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: That’s NOT what I meant_

_unknown: i know_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: So two minutes ago you said you didn’t want to stop, but now you do? To never speak to each other again?_

_unknown: i wasn’t lying before_

_unknown: i really like talking to you_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: So why do we have to end it?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I feel like we’re going in circles_

_unknown: because i’m not who you think i am, and i’d hate to see you disappointed in me_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I’m disappointed in you right now, so your plan kinda sucks_

_unknown: didn’t it always?_

_unknown: who even does stuff like this anymore?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: You know that’s why I like you, don’t you?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Because you’re different_

_unknown: that’s ridiculous_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Is everyone planning on abandoning me this week?_

_unknown: i know you’re having a hard time right now, but i’m not making it any better, either_

_unknown: just forget about me_

_unknown: the rest will work itself out after that_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: FORGET about you?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Listen, I don’t think you understand just how fucking wrong you are_

_unknown: about what, exactly?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: About all of this!_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: My life was a MESS the day you first messaged me_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: But it was you who made me feel better! Not Hunk or Pidge or Matt_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Do you even know how much I love our conversations?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: You’ve helped me through all my shit, you’ve been a better friend to me than everybody else, and I don’t even know your name_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Don’t you see how special that is?_

_unknown: it’s not special!_

_unknown: anyone could have done it!_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: But nobody else did! YOU did!_

_unknown: and for all you know i could be anybody! i could be rolo, or quentin, or lotor!_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: So what? How does that change anything?_

_unknown: LANCE, I’M NOT WHO YOU WANT ME TO BE._

The park is silent, what with school still being in session, but the impact of the sentence is the same as if Unknown had screamed it at Lance himself. The horrible, awful thing about it is that it’s partially true; Lance _does_ still want Lotor to be Unknown, at least sort of. He wants the scene in the hallway yesterday to be a fluke, wants it to be explained away and tossed out the window, forgotten forever, so that Lotor goes back to being perfect in his eyes. He doesn’t want to believe that the guy he’s had a crush on for almost two years is actually just a selfish loner like everyone else thinks. He wants the happy ending he’s been dreaming of for weeks.

But more than that, more than anything, he wants to get to know Unknown without a screen between them. He wants to know what color Unknown’s eyes are, and which classes they have together, and if he likes stargazing and the color blue. He wants to hear Unknown’s voice and see his face and embarrass him about being an anonymous internet stalker. It doesn’t matter if Unknown is a nerdy freshman with a bad haircut, or a popular junior girl who’s been lying to him this way and that. What they had was special, _real_ , and he refuses to give up on it.

His hands shake as he types out the next message, the revelation overcoming him in waves of emotion. He lets go of Lotor, and for a second, it feels like everything will be okay.

_10:21 am_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I don’t want you to be anyone other than who you are_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Don’t you get it?_

_unknown: no, i don’t_

_unknown: and i don’t believe you, either_

Lance’s heart sinks, breaking into pieces as a blue-gray filter falls over the screen until the messages are unreadable, followed by a Garrison messenger notification:

_unknown has blocked you_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something I'm happy to announce is that Unknown is now a series! I was on a bit of a time limit while writing and didn't get to expand into some of the things I wanted to, so I decided to do so in a series of smaller fics. Expect things like what and how Hunk, Pidge, and Matt find out, more stuff to do with Alana and Hunk's parents, and then just some fluff, like the Twelfth Night play. Make sure to subscribe to the Unknown series if you're interested in reading stuff like that, and you can always leave suggestions if there's something you want to see but haven't gotten to/didn't get to yet!  
> 


	11. Keith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a few more mentions of suicide attempts during this chapter, so please stay safe and read with caution!

Keith has successfully avoided Lance, Pidge, and Hunk since Wednesday, and has almost equally successfully dodged all of Matt’s sad, disappointed looks as well. His fight with Lance may have been pretty tame, something that could be fixed with a lot of time and a heartfelt apology. And he _does_ want to apologize. To somebody who doesn’t know the truth, it must have sounded seriously harsh. But he can’t bring himself to face Lance again, and it’s not like he’s going to come looking for Keith after he’d seemingly gone after Unknown like that.

But what else could he have done? Lance had been scarily close--practically one clue away from realizing the truth. And despite everything he’s said to reassure Unknown, Keith is still terrified of being found out.

But going back to his lone-wolf lifestyle after a few weeks of actual human interaction is exhausting. Every day after his shift at the library, he drags himself home (doing his best to catch the bus that Hunk isn’t on) and hides away in his room for a few hours of silence. He actually gets some use out of the punching bag in the garage, beating it recklessly until his mind is blank and only stopping when Acxa steps in front of it and demands he take a break.

His homework gets done during lunch and study skills, since he refuses to help out with Theater Arts anymore. Shiro look concerned when he spends most of eighth period angrily typing about the Agricultural Revolution, but he ignores that in favor of changing the background color of every slide from the blue that reminds him of Quentin’s obnoxious hair to a nice, dark purple.

He hasn’t seen Lotor since Wednesday, either. Coran has them all finishing their presentations outside of class so they can work on a different, smaller, individual project during class time. Acxa hasn’t had any of her Princes (“Nobody calls us the Princes”) over, either, which means he’s been able to not think about the fight and how it had possibly, at least partially, (definitely) been Lotor’s fault. He doesn’t know how to feel about it.

His luck runs out on Friday, when he sees Lotor waiting outside the library doors at the end of the day. Keith almost turns around to leave, because screw his after-school commitments, he doesn’t want to talk about what happened before. But he figures that running from Lotor is cowardly, and he’s had enough of being a coward this year.

Lotor straightens up when he sees Keith, taking a few steps forward to meet him and confirming Keith’s suspicions that he was waiting for him.

“Do you have time to talk?” Lotor asks as Keith walks by him, quickly falling into stride.

“I don’t know why we’d need to,” Keith says, pushing open the library door. Lotor follows him inside.

“I just want to apologise,” Lotor says, sounding sincere and genuine and more straightforward than Keith’s ever heard him. “You don’t have to listen, but I’m going to speak.”

“Fine.” Keith drops his backpack onto the floor, sits down behind the desk, and fixes Lotor with a blank stare. He doesn’t want to blame Lotor--they’d actually started getting along, before Quentin came along--but he knows that it’s at least partially Lotor’s fault, even though it hadn’t been intentional.

Lotor takes a second to collect his thoughts, during which a few students point at the two of them and whisper. Keith fights the urge to glare at them.

“Firstly, I’m sorry about the scene I caused earlier in the week. I know I’ve somehow gotten a reputation, and it doesn’t always make it easy for me to make friends.”

“Okay.”

Keith waits expectantly, trying to soften his expression. Lotor and his group must be under a lot of pressure from their teachers and their peers; he’d never thought about that before. They _are_ kind of like the celebrities of the school, which makes them easy targets for people like Quentin.

“I know that me hanging around with you can be problematic for you and your friends,” Lotor says finally. “Like that day during lunch. I didn’t mean to draw attention to your table--quite the opposite, actually. I was just trying to get to know you better, although my plan kind of backfired.”

“Obviously.” Keith rolls his eyes, but manages a small smile when he remembers the look on Quentin’s face when Lotor had called him out. “It’s alright. I know you didn’t mean to.”

“It’s not alright,” Lotor sighs. “I haven’t been going about this the right way.”

“What do you mean?”

“Making friends,” he explains. “It’s never been my strong suit. Believe it or not, children on the playground don’t exactly jump at the chance to make friends with the teacher’s pet. I only have the friends I have today because they approached me first.”

“But you’re the most popular guy in school,” Keith says, frowning and crossing his arms. “Almost everyone at the Garrison would kill for a chance to be friends with you.”

“Almost everyone at the Garrison would kill for the chance to be a Prince,” Lotor corrects him, making a face at the word “Prince”. “I suppose our reputations precede us. We’re known for being some type of cult, thanks to that gossip blogger your friend punched.”

“Acxa says Rolo doesn’t like you because he thinks you’ve got more social power than him or something,” Keith says.

“That may be the case. But I didn’t command people to fall at my feet wherever I go,” Lotor explains. “I just wanted friends. When I met Acxa in freshman year, everyone pretty much ignored us. We were the outsiders, believe it or not.”

“What happened that changed that?” Keith asks, interested. Acxa doesn’t talk a lot about her time before the Princes.

“I assume you know that your sister is a bit rough around the edges,” Lotor says, humor lacing his tone. “One day during gym, a sophomore named Michael pushed me down. He tried to make an example of me, in order to scare the others into respecting him. Your sister and Zethrid saved me.”

“Really?” Keith knows Acxa is strong, but she’d never mentioned anything about being in fights before.

“Zethrid held Michael down, and Acxa threatened to castrate him or worse if he ever tried to hurt one of her friends again. Apparently someone was filming, because the clip ended up on an up-and-coming Garrison gossip blog the next day.”

Realization hits Keith like a truck going ninety miles an hour. “You made Rolo’s blog famous,” he says slowly, eyes wide.

“I suppose we did, although the real credit goes to the person behind the camera. They made it seem much scarier than it actually was.” Lotor chuckles to himself. “Anyway, people left us alone after that. Zethrid and I became close as well, and the next year we met Narti. People started rumors about us--the Garrison Gossip didn’t exactly help--and soon we found ourselves at the top of the metaphorical food chain.”

Keith thinks about the way people talk about the Princes--with jealousy, fear, intrigue. It’s not hard to imagine that with a few pushes from Rolo, they went from a regular group of friends to the most mysterious people in the school. (Well, as ‘regular’ as a group of people like them can be, at least.)

It doesn’t explain why they know so little about each other, or why they want anything to do with Keith, but it’s a start.

“So you didn’t ask for fame, but you got it anyway,” he says, just to confirm. Lotor nods sagely.

“I suppose we didn’t do anything to dispel the rumors,” he says, “but we weren’t hoping for this outcome. And now we’ve-- _I’ve_ \--dragged you and your friends into the spotlight as well.”

“It’s alright,” Keith says again. “It’s just high school. I don’t care what people say about me.”

“But your friends…”

Keith thinks bitterly that Lance, Hunk, and Pidge probably aren’t his friends anymore, but all he does is shrug. “It’s been a hard semester for all of us, but I think they’ll survive.”

“I should apologize to them, as well,” Lotor says. “I might have come off a little cold to them.”

Keith keeps quiet, not wanting to talk about them any more than he has to.

“I’ll fix things, I promise,” Lotor says. “With all of them, and with Quentin if I can.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Keith replies, wondering how much drama another conflict with Quentin would cause. Probably at least another Garrison Gossip story’s worth.

“I’ll make it up to you somehow,” Lotor promises. “If there’s anything I can do for you in the meantime…”

“I’ll let you know,” Keith says. “And Lotor? Thanks.”

* * *

His shift is almost over when his phone buzzes on the desk. Curiously, Keith flips it over and sees that he has a new message from someone on the Garrison messenger. He figures that it’s probably Acxa and ignores it for another two minutes, but when two other messages come in he gives up and glances at the screen again.

His blood runs cold when he sees that it’s not Acxa. No, it’s someone a thousand times worse--someone his sister had warned him against interacting with from the start.

It’s Rolo. And he’s messaging Unknown.

_4:25 pm_

_Garrison-Gossip: Hello hello?_

_Garrison-Gossip: Is this the infamous Unknown I’ve been hearing so much about?_

_Garrison-Gossip: Answer, or I’ll publish that article on Lance I’ve been saving._

_unknown: what do you want, rolo_

_Garrison-Gossip: Take a wild guess._

_unknown: you want a story_

_Garrison-Gossip: Correct._

_Garrison-Gossip: I’m sure you don’t know this, but today is the one-year anniversary of one of my biggest stories ever._

_Garrison-Gossip: A student attempts suicide on school grounds after a pregnancy scandal leads her into a downward spiral._

_unknown: does everything you say sound like the hook to an article out of a trashy teen magazine?_

_Garrison-Gossip: Actually, pretty much._

_Garrison-Gossip: So listen, I’ve been hearing some pretty interesting things about you which might even top the records from last year’s Florona Waverly story._

_Garrison-Gossip: An anonymous stalker named Unknown chases after Lance Fuentes this way and that, trying to get his attention and not get caught doing so, because he’s too afraid to show his real face._

_unknown: i hate to break it to you, but that’s not exactly what happened_

_Garrison-Gossip: I don’t care how it really happened._

_Garrison-Gossip: I want a story. Something that will really draw my readers in. I’m not afraid to exaggerate._

_unknown: good luck with that, dirtbag_

_Garrison-Gossip: And you’re going to help me, Keith Yeun._

_unknown: that’s not me_

_Garrison-Gossip shared a photo_

_Garrison-Gossip: Oh, I think it is._

_Garrison-Gossip: See that perfectly clear shot of your phone screen?_

_Garrison-Gossip: And that unforgettable mullet. It’s recognizable even from the back._

_unknown: what do you want me to do_

_Garrison-Gossip: Giving up easy, huh? I like it._

_unknown: i didn’t say i would do it_

_unknown: i just want to know what you want_

_Garrison-Gossip: I want you to start using capital letters, for one thing._

_unknown: no_

_Garrison-Gossip: Fair enough._

_Garrison-Gossip: What I really want is the full, in-depth story of Unknown, straight from the horse’s mouth._

_unknown: and why would i do that?_

_Garrison-Gossip shared a photo_

_Garrison-Gossip: Because I have the Lancelot story all prepped and ready for posting._

_Garrison-Gossip: Lance Fuentes announces his affection for the Garrison Cadets’ team captain, Lotor Tuan. In an embarrassing turn of events for Fuentes, Tuan seems to have recently become interested in the new sophomore, Keith Yeun._

_Garrison-Gossip: How’s that for a tagline?_

_unknown: long and wordy_

_Garrison-Gossip: But it got your attention, didn’t it?_

_unknown: i have screenshots of this. i can show somebody and you could get suspended._

_Garrison-Gossip: You don’t think Florona’s friends tried that on me last year?_

_Garrison-Gossip: This account isn’t even mine. The Gossip blog is untraceable, too._

_unknown: so you want me to tell you everything about unknown for a story for your blog_

_unknown: and in return you won’t run the lance/lotor story?_

_Garrison-Gossip: That’s correct._

_unknown: fine_

_unknown: but you leave lance out of it as much as possible, okay?_

_Garrison-Gossip: I’ll add what I think is necessary._

_Garrison-Gossip: Oh, and Keith?_

_unknown: what_

_Garrison-Gossip: I want you to tell Lance who you are._

_Garrison-Gossip: Every great story has to have an ending to match, right?_

_unknown: you can’t make me do that!_

_Garrison-Gossip: Oh, but I can._

_Garrison-Gossip: You tell Lance by noon tomorrow--the sooner, the better--and then you report everything back to me. Or else the story runs._

_Garrison-Gossip: Deal?_

_unknown: you’re sick_

_Garrison-Gossip: Do we have a deal or not?_

_unknown: fine. we have a deal._

Keith grabs his backpack from the floor, slinging it around one shoulder and sprinting out of the library as fast as he can. He grips his phone tightly, running down the halls to the auditorium where drama club should have been. A quick glance at the clock in the main hall tells him that it’s 4:36, meaning that most club activities are over for the day. If he can find Lance-

“Keith! Hey, man, slow down!”

It’s Hunk, just coming up the stairs from the science lab with Pidge at his side. “What’s going on?”

“Where’s the fire?” Pidge jokes, but her expression goes serious when she really looks at him. “Hey, is everything okay?”

“Where’s Lance?” Keith demands, panting. “I need to talk to him, like, _now_.”

Hunk looks down awkwardly. “Uh, Lance isn’t really talking to me.”

Keith turns to Pidge, pleading. “Tell me you’ve seen him,” he begs.

Pidge frowns. “Lance skipped drama club yesterday, and Wednesday too. I doubt he’s still here.”

“Fuck.” Keith leans against the wall, catching his breath, phone still clutched in his hand. “ _Fuck_! This is my fault.”

“Hey.” Hunk’s warm hand settles on his shoulder, rubbing in small circles. “Everything’s gonna work out. We’ll find him for you, okay?”

“What do you need to talk to him about?” Pidge asks, voice soft. They both look like they’ve already got a pretty good idea.

“I need to tell him something. I can’t explain it now, but it’s _really_ important.”

Hunk and Pidge glance at each other, then nod. “We’ll find him,” Hunk promises again.

“I’ll message him,” Pidge says, already typing. “He hates leaving messages unresponded to.”

“And I’ll come look around with you, if you want,” Hunk offers. “Pidge, message us if you hear anything.”

Pidge nods, not acknowledging the fact that she doesn’t know Keith’s messenger name and he’s supposedly locked out as well. “Good luck,” she says. “It will all work out.”

Lance isn’t in the auditorium, and he’s not hanging out outside the school. Pidge messages Hunk a few times, telling them that Lance isn’t responding to her, and Allura hasn’t seen him since the school day officially ended. Hunk runs over to the middle school to ask Violeta (who turns out to be Lance’s younger sister) if she’s seen him while Keith hangs back near their lockers, but it doesn’t end up helping them at all.

“I can go to his house if you want,” Hunk offers. “But it’s kind of a bad time for his family, so I don’t think he’d go there to escape. He was supposed to hang out with Pidge and Matt and me, but…”

“Does he have like, a favorite cafe or something?” Keith asks desperately, running a hand through his hair in agitation. “This is _really_ important.”

“I know,” Hunk says--although Keith doubts that he really understands the urgency. “It’s just a really bad time for him. Can you wait until Monday, maybe?”

“No,” Keith answers, shaking his head vigorously. “Hunk, Rolo found out about Unknown.”

Hunk’s face quickly shifts from sympathy to horror. “Wait, are you serious?!”

Keith nods, despondent. “He wants me to tell Lance who I am, or else he’ll run a story on Lance having a crush on Lotor. I have until noon tomorrow.”

“Oh, god,” Hunk whispers, eyes wide. “Keith, I’m so sorry. How did he find out?”

“He saw me with the messenger open on my phone and took a picture,” Keith explains, rubbing his hands over his face. “And now he wants to write an article on Unknown.”

“You can’t let him do that!” Hunk exclaims. “We have to report this to someone or something. Keith, last year when- when, uh…”

“When Florona Waverly tried to kill herself,” Keith finishes for him. “He told me. Was she Lance’s…?”

“His best friend. Aside from me, of course.” Hunk laughs, but there’s no humor behind it. “There was a big fiasco last year. I’m sure he’ll explain it to you if you ask. He trusts you, after all.”

“He won’t after this,” Keith mutters, scuffing his shoe along the floor.

“Oh, right! Rolo.” Hunk grabs Keith by the shoulders and leans in. “Keith, that dude has been ruining people’s lives for over four years. But he’s totally untraceable, and his mom’s a big-time supporter of the school, so we’ve never been able to stop him before.”

“So what makes you think we’ll be able to do it now?” Keith asks, shaking his head. “That guy’s a jerk, and I want to punch his face in and get back at him more than anything, but going to the teachers wouldn’t help us at all. I have to make sure his story never gets published, and I owe it to Lance to confess, anyway. It’s the least I can do before I…”

Hunk frowns. “You’re still going to stop messaging him?”

Keith shrugs halfheartedly, staring down at the ground. “I don’t think he’ll want to be around me much after this,” he says. “The only thing I’ve done for him is cause him more trouble.”

Hunk sighs, shaking his head. “It’s your choice, man, but for what it’s worth, I think you’re wrong. And hey, I’ll do everything I can to get Rolo’s blog shut down ASAP. We all will.”

“Thanks,” Keith says, offering a not-quite-genuine smile. “Do you think we should check his house, anyway?”

“Probably.” Hunk nods. “It’s a really quick walk from here, but if you have somewhere to be…”

“I don’t,” Keith says, too quickly. “Do you?”

Hunk shakes his head. “And even if I did, this is too important to ignore.”

They walk about fifteen minutes to Lance’s house, by which time it’s already five past five. Occasionally, Hunk points out a landmark of the street with a funny story to go along with it of his and Lance’s childhood together, but mostly they just walk in silence.

“This is it,” Hunk announces, gesturing to a medium-sized gray house with a small row of stairs leading up to the front door. There’s an old, dark-blue car parked in the driveway next to a small pile of metal pieces and a skateboard. Keith jumps as he realizes they’re not alone out here--two pairs of shoes stick out from behind the car, their owners invisible.

“Lucas!” Hunk calls, and an almost familiar head of brown hair appears from the other side of the car.

“ _Acere,_ what’s up?”

Keith blinks several times. Lucas is extremely similar to Lance in looks--same short brown hair and athletic build, although he looks more like a basketball player than a swimmer. A second head appears, this time with darker hair and Lance’s eyes.

“Hey, Hunk,” the Second Small Lance says, waving with a hand full of tools. “Who’s that?”

“This is Keith,” Hunk says, gesturing to him. Keith waves awkwardly. “Keith, that’s Lucas, and that’s Luis. Guys, we’re looking for Lance. Is he home yet, or did he go somewhere?”

“No idea,” Lucas says, shrugging. “Try asking Pilar?”

“Pilar wouldn’t know,” Luis corrects his brother, then turns back to Hunk. “She’s not home, anyway. Try asking Mami. She just got back from work.”

“Thanks.” Hunk nods to each of them, then heads towards the stairs. Keith considers waving again, but the twins have already disappeared behind the car, so he just follows Hunk.

The door is already opening when they reach the top of the short staircase. “Hunk, _mijo_ ,” the woman at the door says, pulling him into a hug. She looks a lot like Lance, but her eyes are more of a greenish-blue and her hair has more red in it than his does. There are dark circles under her eyes that match Lance’s almost exactly. “Did you bring Lance with you, or is he staying at school late again?”

“Oh.” Hunk looks like a deer caught in headlights. “We were actually, uh, wondering if Lance was here.”

A second figure joins them at the door, a tall man who looks like he could be Lance’s dad. He’s got the same friendly, easygoing demeanor, something Keith hasn’t seen around much lately. (He’s definitely missed it.)

“Estefania, have they brought us our son back?” he asks playfully, winking at Hunk.

“No, they were looking for him,” Lance’s mom explains, turning back to them. “Oh!” she exclaims, noticing Keith for the first time. “Hunk, who’s your friend?”

“This is Keith,” Hunk says, stepping to the side. “He’s a friend of Lance’s, too.”

“Nice to meet you,” Estefania says, smiling with Lance’s signature grin. “I’m sure you heard, but I’m Estefania. Oh, and this is Tomas.”

“Nice to meet you,” Tomas says, holding out a hand. “We’re glad Lance is making new friends.”

Keith shakes his hand awkwardly, not sure of what to say. He and Lance aren’t exactly on friendly terms right now, but it feels like a bad time to bring up their argument--especially since it’s their first impression of him. He decides to keep silent.

“Keith is new this year,” Hunk supplies helpfully, then steers the conversation back on topic. “So Lance didn’t mention anything about going to Third Sea or Sal’s after school?”

“Nothing,” Tomas replies, his playful demeanor gone. “You really don’t know where he could be?”

Keith shakes his head. “I’m sorry,” he says, shrugging. “We haven’t seen him since school ended.”

“It’s a hard day for him,” Tomas sighs, shaking his head. “I wish he would come home, or at least stay with you and Pidge. He thinks too much when he’s alone.”

“He’ll be alright,” Estefania says, although she looks just as worried. “I just hope he doesn’t stay out too late.”

Hunk nods, then glances at Keith. “Well, I guess we’ll just keep looking. Thank you, and sorry to waste your time.”

“Never a waste of time, talking to Lance’s friends,” Tomas says reassuringly. “Are you sure you don’t want to come in and wait for a little while?”

Hunk and Keith glance over at each other again, and Keith shakes his head the tiniest bit. “We should probably get going,” Hunk says.

“It was nice to meet you,” Keith adds quickly. Lance’s parents smile at him, almost sadly.

“Nice to meet you, Keith,” Tomas says, waving. Keith follows Hunk down past the driveway, already starting to panic by the time they stop.

“Hunk, what if I can’t do it in time and Rolo runs the story?”

“We’ll find him,” Hunk says, unlocking his phone. “I’ll ask Violeta to message us when he comes home, and Pidge is already trying to hack his phone for a location. I told her it was urgent,” he explains when Keith stares at him incredulously.

“So what do we do now? Keep looking?” he asks. Hunk shakes his head.

“We’ve just got to wait,” he says simply. “I know you’re stressed over this, Keith, and believe me, you have every right to be. But try to relax at home for a little bit. I promise I’ll message you as soon as I hear anything.”

“I can’t just do nothing for the rest of the day,” Keith says, balling his hands into fists inside the pocket of his jacket. “I can’t just sit there! What if Rolo decides to run the story, anyway?”

“If you can’t do anything else, try talking to Shiro about Rolo,” Hunk suggests. “He might be able to freeze the account for a bit, although that might not be too helpful.”

Keith shakes his head. “I can’t report the account until I know Lance’s story isn’t going up tomorrow,” he says stubbornly. Hunk sighs wearily.

“Keith, you’ve done everything you can. Now all we can do is wait.”

He looks sympathetic, but he won’t let Keith protest anymore. “We did our best,” he says. “Lance will appreciate the sacrifice you’re making for him. But right now you should go home and knock some homework out of the way or something.”

He’s right; Keith knows that he is, and yet he still feels like he’s admitting defeat. “You’ll message me as soon as you hear anything?” he asks, just to be sure. Hunk nods in confirmation.

“I promise.”

* * *

Keith’s spent most of the rest of the day moping around in his room, or throwing punches in the garage. He skips dinner with the excuse of a big lunch, and pretends to be asleep when Acxa knocks on his door later in the night.

There’s about an hour left in the day, meaning that his time is running out even more quickly than he’d thought it would. There’s been no news from Hunk, Pidge, or Matt, and he’s starting to worry that Lance has disappeared off the face of the earth when his phone vibrates on his nightstand. It’s Hunk.

_11:03 pm_

_Hunk-a-saurus: Violeta says he just got home_

_Hunk-a-saurus: You probably don’t have a lot of time before he goes to bed, and there’s a good chance he’ll disappear again tomorrow, so this is like your only chance_

_Hunk-a-saurus: Hurry!_

Keith springs off the bed, grabbing a jacket from the floor of his room before he leaves. The hallway is blessedly empty when he closes the door, already trying to recall where Lance’s house is. He could take a bus if they’re still running, but it would probably be faster to drive.

Keith doesn’t have his driver’s license yet, but he’s technically able to get one. And the chances of him getting caught are little to none. He’s driven stick shifts and automatics before--he’d even driven a motorcycle back at Galra, pretending to be an interested buyer when his friend had dared him to. But taking a car without his dad’s (and Sarah’s) permission is a lot different than test driving a model.

Well, it’s his best option for now. Mind made up, he grabs a random set of keys from the dish in the kitchen, jams his feet into his old pair of sneakers--he really should get another pair--and is about to run out the door when a hand on his wrist pulls him back.

“You running away or something?” Acxa asks, sounding half-asleep and mildly amused at the same time. She doesn’t let go of Keith’s arm.

“Let me go,” Keith growls, desperately trying to pull away. “Acxa, I have to go!”

“Not until you tell me what’s going on.” Acxa’s voice suggests that there’s no way Keith is getting out of this. “Does this have anything to do with why you’ve been acting so weird lately? Did something happen at school?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Keith says, hating the way his voice breaks in the middle. He glares, trying to free his arm.

“Then make me.” Acxa pulls Keith over to the kitchen table and half-pushes him into a chair. “You’re going to tell me what’s going on, and don’t even _think_ about bullshiting me, and then we’re gonna figure this out together.”

“There’s nothing to figure out,” Keith snaps. “Nothing you could help me with, anyway. Just let me go.”

“You know I won’t,” Acxa says, annoyingly passive. “And sometimes it helps just to talk. Even if I can’t fix anything for you, maybe I can help you fix things for yourself.”

“I already am,” Keith points out, glaring. His eyes sting. “And it’s not like everything’s just that easy, anyway. Not everything _can_ be fixed.”

“What were you going to fix?”

Keith shakes his head, his throat closing up. “I can’t tell you,” he says miserably, clenching his jaw.

“ _Try_ ,” Acxa replies stubbornly. “Keith, I’m worried about you. Is something going on that we need to tell mom and dad about?”

In spite of everything, Keith laughs. His eyes are wet and his chest is burning. “No, it’s not like that. It’s just…”

He shakes his head again, not even knowing where he would begin. How do you explain a friendship that barely exists, one that’s only held together by a single secret that’s about to come undone? He can’t exactly answer Acxa’s questions when he still needs answers to his own. Does Lance even like him, or does he just put up with him because Keith can’t take a hint?

“Can I ask you something?” he asks hesitantly.

“If it’s quick,” Acxa says.

“You and Zethrid… She didn’t even know your birthday, and you’ve known each other for _years_. Lotor didn’t remember that your mom remarried my dad, and Ezor never even comes around the house. Are you and the rest of the Princes even friends?”

“Keith, what are you talking about?” Acxa says, huffing a small, confused laugh. “We’re best friends.”

“But you… They don’t even…” Keith frowns, trying to comprehend.

“Just because we don’t know everything about each other, doesn’t mean we’re not real friends,” Acxa says. “Zethrid and I may not know each other’s birthdays, but we love spending time with each other. And Ezor and I have barely known each other for a year, but we’re just as close.”

Keith’s frown deepens. It doesn’t make sense; how can five years worth of friendship compare to nine months? Is it something remarkable about Ezor, or something wrong with him? Unknown didn’t seem to have a problem with getting close to Lance, but Keith can still feel the space between them. He feels his throat constrict and tries to swallow against it, not wanting to cry in front of his sister.

“Keith,” Acxa says, “talk to me.”

So he does.

As soon as he starts talking, it’s like he can’t stop, and it all comes out in a long rush of words. He starts with Lance’s bad day and creating Unknown, but soon he finds himself drifting into everything he’s stressed over, every time he’s felt insecure and out of place, how he--as Unknown--had gotten way in over his head and how he’d accidentally fallen for Lance in the process. He doesn’t leave out a single detail, not even the paper lion and how Matt and Hunk had found out and Pidge probably guessed a while ago and how Lance misunderstood Lotor’s interest in him for something more and how Rolo is blackmailing him, and by the time he’s finally done his face is wet and it feels like the world has been lifted off his shoulders. There’s more; there always is, but for now, its enough.

Acxa listens and nods and never interrupts, not even once, and when the words stop she gives Keith a minute, making sure that he’s truly done before she speaks.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” is the first thing she says. “I could have helped, Keith. Maybe not with Unknown, and probably not with Lance, but I could have… I don’t know, been there for you or something.”

“I didn’t want to bother you,” Keith admits, wiping his face with the sleeve of his hoodie. “I know how busy you are with school.”

Acxa sighs, shaking her head. “It’s my fault. I should have checked in with you more.”

“What?” Keith sniffs. “It’s _not_ your fault, what the _fuck_ , Acxa?”

Acxa rolls her eyes. “I’m your sister. You should be able to tell me anything. So yes, I am at least partially to blame. It doesn’t matter how busy I am, you shouldn’t have to deal with all this stuff on your own.”

Keith slumps in his chair, suddenly exhausted. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Just come to me next time, okay? I know how hard it is to change schools, and I can help you out with that stuff. Lotor and Zethrid have been asking if you want to stick with us, you know. Ezor and Narti, too. They don’t offer that to just anybody. And I know you’ve got your own friends now, but if you ever need us, we’re here, okay?” When he nods, Acxa looks satisfied. “Now, are you going to tell me where you were going?”

Keith sits up straight, remembering his earlier mission. “I was going to- to explain to Lance. About Unknown. Acxa, I need to do this. Rolo’s going to run the story if I don’t tell him everything. Please, he had a really hard time this time last year, and-”

“I know,” Acxa says, shaking her head. “Florona Waverly. I was there when the ambulance came.”

“Please,” Keith begs, not having time to wonder how much Axca knows about Florona. “The messenger won’t let me un-block him yet, and Hunk and Pidge can’t get to him, either. _Please_.”

Acxa deliberates for a few seconds, but before Keith can resume begging or just straight-up bolt out the door, she nods. “Alright. Firstly, I’m going to talk to Shirogane and see what we can do about Rolo’s account. We probably have enough testimonies for them to shut down the account for good. If we can help it, neither story will run.”

“Acxa, I have to hurry.”

“I know. Are you sure he’s awake and we won’t be disturbing anyone?”

Keith groans, exasperated. “Yeah, he’s awake and it’s a weekend, so I’m pretty sure it’ll be fine. Can I _please_ go now?”

Acxa sighs wearily. “Fine. But I’m not letting you walk there. I’ll drive you.”

Keith doesn’t argue. He hands the keys to Acxa, who pulls on her shoes and grabs a coat, and then they’re climbing into the car and Keith is reading off Lance’s address.

Thankfully, Acxa stays quiet for the rest of the drive, leaving Keith to think about what he’s going to say--or rather, in which order he’s going to say it. He already knows that he needs to tell Lance everything if he wants a second chance--not just how he’s Unknown, but also _why_ he messaged him in the first place. Still, he feels like he owes Lance more than that as well--an apology, probably, and maybe while he’s at it he should tell him that he likes him. He shakes his head and closes his eyes, feeling sick just thinking about it.

It turns out there’s no need for knocking on doors or throwing rocks at windows or anything like that. When they pull up to the curb by Lance’s house, there’s a figure sitting on the stairs to the front porch.

“That’s him,” Keith says, not bothering to turn back to Acxa. “You don’t have to stay. I can find my way back.”

“I’m not gonna leave you here at eleven at night, Keith,” Acxa says quietly. “The busses aren’t even running anymore. I’ll find a fast food restaurant or something and buy way too many fries. Message me when you’re ready to go home.”

“You really don’t have to-”

“Keith. Get out of the car and talk to him.”

Keith looks back at the boy on the stairs, who’s now watching the car suspiciously. Sarah’s windows are tinted, so he doubts that Lance can see him, but he sinks down in his seat anyway.

“Are you sure this is a smart thing to do?” he asks nervously. Acxa sighs again.

“It’s the right thing to do. Now go, before I walk you up there myself.”

Keith places a hand on the car door handle, then stops. “Thanks,” he says quietly. “For everything.”

He opens the car door and steps out into the darkness. The night air is cool on his skin, and he shoves his hands into the pockets of his hoodie to keep them warm. Lance watches him as he walks towards the house, expression surprised and wary. They both remember their last conversation all too well. Still, he doesn’t move or speak, just watches as Keith moves towards him.

“Keith,” Lance says when he reaches the bottom of the steps. He offers nothing more--but then, Keith doesn’t need it. Distantly, he hears the rev of the engine as Acxa pulls out into the street, but it barely registers.

He takes a deep breath, clenching his shaking hands into fists as he steels himself for what’s next. And then…

“I’m Unknown,” he says, his voice strong and sure despite the nervousness he feels in every inch of his being.

And for the second time that night, he explains it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for all the wonderful comments you left on the last chapter! I'm happy to see that you guys are still excited about updates. Only three chapters to go after this!  
> Make sure to subscribe to the Unknown series if you're interested in reading future timestamps, and you can always leave suggestions in the comments/on my [Tumblr](https://djbunn3.tumblr.com/) if there's something you want to see but haven't gotten to/didn't get to yet!  
> [Pepple's artwork for Chapters 11 & 12](http://pepplemint.tumblr.com/post/170237764370/so-a-billion-years-later-i-come-bearing-more-art)!


	12. Lance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a visual depiction of a past suicide attempt at the very beginning of the chapter (italicized memory) and a less graphic conversation about it later on. Please stay safe and avoid parts that may be triggering!

_It happened exactly one year ago to the day,_ Lance thinks.

_He’s wandering the halls of the Garrison, looking for Flora, wanting to give her the birthday present he and Hunk had spent all night on. And he’s looking to apologize, too, since the last time they’d spoken had been their big fight almost two weeks ago._

_He wanders through the art rooms and the science labs, present in hand, wanting to give it to Flora without Pilar hovering over them. There’s a gender-neutral bathroom in the basement, one which is supposedly getting closed down along with the pool next year; he tries that one next. Upon first glance, the bathroom is empty, but just to be sure, he wanders down to the small, out-of-use shower stall at the far end of the room, checking the stalls as he goes. The curtain is closed. There’s heavy breathing on the other side._

_“Flora?” he calls hesitantly, knocking on the wall by the shower. “Are you in there? It’s Lance.”_

_There’s a heavy pause, filled with nothing but the same raspy, uneven breaths. “Florona?” he asks again._

_“Lance,” comes the reply, weak and sharp in the silence of the bathroom. And then the curtain is pulled aside in several jerky movements, and all he sees is deep, wet, bloody red._

_Later, in the hospital waiting room, Pilar tells him that he’d screamed. She tells him that they’re lucky Shirogane and Allura were helping clean the art rooms that day. She tells him that Allura had called the ambulance while Shiro had tried his best to apply pressure to the cuts, and that she’d run in as soon as she’d heard his voice and pulled him away and sat with him until their parents came, and that Florona is going to be okay, but they can’t see her yet._

_He doesn’t remember screaming, but he feels it in his throat, which is sore and scratchy. And he feels something else, too. Something like an out-of-body experience--numb, blank, just waiting until the story is over before he starts to react. Just waiting. Unwilling to believe._

He feels it again, listening to Keith confess. Like he won’t understand it until he hears everything. He can’t process it, not just yet. Maybe in a few minutes. Maybe when Keith is done talking, he’ll know how to feel.

Keith is Unknown. It makes sense. Lance is actually a little surprised he didn’t figure it out before, what with all the hints--the red paint, the personality traits, the shared classes, their similar humor. It should have been obvious. It _would_ have been obvious if he weren’t so intent on proving that Unknown was Lotor the whole time. Now he just feels like an idiot.

Keith explains why he first messaged Lance on the day their extremely strange friendship was born, about never meaning for it to go this far, about how Lance had been the brightest part of his day ever since the school year had started. (At this, Lance blushes hard and Keith refuses to look at him until they’ve moved on.) He tells Lance about the conversation he’d had with Pidge, just a few hours before he’d sent the first message, and about being surprised when Lance had actually responded. The part where they’d bumped into each other mid-conversation makes him want to laugh at his own obliviousness.

Then Keith talks about getting to know Lance in real life, pretending that he hadn’t known anything about Unknown, getting caught by Acxa, and then confirming Lance’s suspicions that Hunk knows who Unknown is. He explains feeling out of place in the group because of the secret he’d been keeping, getting frustrated that Lance trusted him more as Unknown than as himself, sending the picture of the trash can by the art room in a moment of weakness, Lotor and his sister trying to recruit him into their strange, cultish group, and having to pretend to be annoyed by Unknown because he’d been scared of what would happen if Lance ever found out.

“But now I don’t have a choice,” he says, shrugging. At some point he’d sat down on the stairs next to Lance, and now Lance’s right knee is pressed to Keith’s left. “So… I don’t know what’s gonna happen from here. I really didn’t want to do this, especially not in person, but the messenger wouldn’t let me unblock you for another day, and…”

“You’re Unknown,” Lance says, the out-of-body feeling fading away, being replaced by wonder (and almost disbelief that he finally knows who it is. He’s wanted this so badly, and it’s been _so long_ , and yet only a few weeks have passed.)

“Yeah.” Keith shrugs, staring at his hands. “I am.”

Lance snorts, numbness starting to give way to a rush of emotion, of color, of something unexplainable. “I probably should have guessed. You’re both reclusive emo kids.”

“Can you be serious for a second?” Keith snaps, deflating a second later. “I’m sorry. I just- I don’t know what’s going on in your head right now, and it’s…scaring me.”

“I’m not mad,” Lance promises, sobering up a little as he remembers how self-conscious Unknown had seemed before. “Well, maybe I’m a little mad at myself, but… I just can’t believe I finally know who you are, and you were so close to me the whole time. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was going to tell you as soon as I knew you were okay with it, but then I overheard you and Hunk talking about what a… what a creep I was.”

“I didn’t mean-”

“I know,” Keith says, waving his apology off and frowning. “But it got in my head. I was scared, okay? I thought if you knew, you wouldn’t want to talk to me anymore. It sounds ridiculous, but it’s true. I didn’t think… that you were actually serious about the things you said. About not judging me, or wanting to know who I was.”

“Even after you met me in real life?” Lance asks, starting to feel a little guilty. Keith nods in admittance.

“I know it’s stupid, but I was worried. I didn't exactly think the whole thing through, and there were so many ways it could have gone wrong, and… Well, you just seemed to like Unknown so much more than me…”

“What does _that_ mean?”

“Um…” Keith pauses for a second, deliberating. “I don’t know. I guess I just felt like he was more important to you than I was, even though we were the same person. You seemed more open with him.”

“So you were worried because you thought I didn’t like Unknown enough,” Lance says, “but also because I liked him--you--too much?”

“It’s stupid,” Keith says again, looking away. “It’s just… I thought you only liked Unknown because you thought he was Lotor.”

Lance winces, his guilt intensifying. “Yeah, I did think that for a while,” he says. “I wanted to believe it so badly, I completely tricked myself into it. But honestly… I’m kind of glad that it wasn’t him.”

“But why? You like Lotor, don’t you?” Keith glances up, meeting his gaze for a split second before he looks away. He sounds confused.

“I did,” Lance says. “Or I thought I did, at least, but… I don’t even know him. He’s not who I thought he was, and he’s definitely no Unknown.”

“It sucks that he didn’t care enough about you to do what I did,” Keith says. “He should have. But… I care about you. A lot. You’re important to me, Lance.”

Something warm spreads through him then, like a warm drink at home after a snowstorm. “You’re important to me, too,” Lance says. “As Unknown and as Keith. _More so_ as Keith. I’m… so sorry, you know, that I didn’t tell you that before.”

They sit there for a minute, Lance watching Keith look anywhere but at him. “There’s something else, isn’t there?” he prompts. Keith shrugs, not meeting his eyes.

“Are you disappointed?” he asks, still not looking up. Lance rolls his eyes in playful exasperation.

“Of course I’m not disappointed,” he replies, shaking his head. “Definitely not. I’m so, _so_ happy that you told me. I mean, Keith, you’re _Unknown_! Unknown is you! I’ve been waiting to meet you for- Well, you already know how long. Oh my gosh, I just thought of something. How many times did you message me when we were right next to each other?”

“Probably too many to count,” Keith admits sheepishly. “I felt bad ignoring you. But-”

“And that was _your_ phone at the party!” Lance exclaims, waves of realization crashing over him. He feels hysterical; it’s like he’s high off this or something. “I should have recognized that phone case. I really am oblivious, aren’t I?”

“A little bit,” Keith says. “But Lance-”

“Oh my god, I literally talked to you _about_ you. That would have been really awkward if I didn’t like you or something. Also, are you still mad at me? _Were_ you ever mad at me, or were you just upset? ‘Cause I can understand either way, but I feel like I should apologize if you’re mad. Actually, I should just apologize anyway. I’m sorry that I was such a jerk, and I-”

“Lance!”

Lance stops mid sentence. “Huh?”

Keith glances at him for a split second before looking back down. “I know you’re saying that you’re not disappointed, but… Didn’t you want me to be somebody else?” he asks. “Even if it wasn’t Lotor. Don’t you wish it was somebody cooler? Somebody who isn’t socially awkward and doesn’t have a mullet?”

Fighting the urge to make fun of Keith’s mullet, Lance reaches out and tilts Keith’s chin up with his fingers, like a moment in some cheesy rom com. “Hey, man,” he says. “Don’t think like that. You were sweet, and kind, and you cared about me more than a stranger had any obligation to. I’m really glad that it was you.”

Keith sighs in relief, seemingly reassured for real. “Good. I thought I’d have to hide forever.”

“I can’t believe I messed up so much you had to lie to everyone for a month,” Lance sighs. “It should have been obvious that something was up. That apology- I know I was rambling, but I was serious about that. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Keith says. “It’s fine. It wasn’t your fault. And anyway, I should be the one apologizing after all that stuff I said to you on Wednesday. I really didn’t mean it.”

“Stop it,” Lance says, shaking his head. “You were totally right. I was letting Unknown and Lotor get in the way of everything when I should have been focused on you and Pidge and Hunk. You were trying to be my friend, and all I did was ask you about Lotor all the time.”

“That’s not true,” Keith disagrees, but Lance isn’t done.

“I shouldn’t have put Unknown before everyone else, even though it turned out he was you. And I- I should have know how bad it was when you pointed it out to me, but I didn’t want to listen. I hurt you all, and then I blamed everyone else for it. I’m really, really sorry.”

“It’s not fair to take all the blame,” Keith says, frowning at the steps beneath them. “We both messed up a lot. I should have been more open from the beginning.”

“I honestly wouldn’t have blamed you if you ignored me after I called you creepy,” Lance says. “But hey, everything worked out, right? I mean, we’ve got a lot of stuff to deal with once we get back to school, but it’s not like I’m chasing after Lotor and you’re hiding away all the time.”

Keith laughs quietly. “I guess it’s better than nothing,” he says, looking up at Lance--for real, this time. His eyes are a unique shade of dusty purple and stormy gray, framed by a thin line of dark lashes. Lance remembers asking Unknown what color his eyes were, towards the beginning of their friendship. Keith’s eyes are much deeper, more dimensional than he’d thought Unknown’s might be--probably because he’d been picturing Lotor’s eyes, he realizes.

Keith stares back, neither of them daring to move or blink or breathe. It’s dark, the streetlights having gone out a long time ago, the only light coming from the moon and the headlights from the occasional car driving by. Lance loses track of the seconds that pass, suppressed exhaustion mingling with lingering joy in his mind, and suddenly he’s leaning in, with less than an inch between them, still looking at Keith questioningly. Keith’s eyes are wide, confused and hopeful as he stares back. He gives the slightest nod, chin bobbing microscopically in Lance’s hand. He leans in more, closing his eyes as he does. And then… Oh.

He’s kissing Keith.

His hand slips from Keith’s chin to his cheek, the other one bracing his weight next to Keith’s leg. It’s soft and warm and quick, and far too soon it’s gone.

The porch light casts a soft glow onto the two of them as he pulls back. Someone must have turned it on from the inside, he thinks, not bothering to look away to check. “Sorry,” he says sheepishly, pulling away further. “I don’t know- I guess I’m just excited.”

“No, it’s… I don’t mind,” Keith replies. “I mean, it’s fine. It’s okay.”

Lance laughs awkwardly, shaking his head. “I’m exhausted, man, and this is… kind of shocking, you know? I’m totally not gonna believe it when I wake up.”

Keith smiles, tired but playful. “I’m sure _something_ will remind you. Maybe you should write it on your hand or something.”

“Writing on yourself is really bad for your skin,” Lance says. “Especially with Sharpie. A note would be better. Anyway, that’s not important right now.”

“Did _the_ Lance Fuentes just say that skincare _isn’t important_?” Keith jokes, elbowing him gently.

“I thought we were having a moment!”

“Well, moment over.” Keith’s face falls slightly as he glances down at his hands, then pulls out his phone. “I guess I should tell Rolo now.”

“What? Rolo? Why would you-” Lance feels his stomach drop, exhaustion-induced paranoia surfacing. “Are you working with him?”

“No!” Keith exclaims, waving his hands frantically. “No, I’m not working with him, he’s blackmailing me!”

“Oh. _What_?!”

Keith sighs, running a hand over his face. “He found out about Unknown and threatened to run a story on you unless I gave him a better one. That’s why I’m here all of a sudden--he only gave me until noon tomorrow.”

Lance stares, horrified. “He’s exposing you? We can’t let him do that!”

“It’s better than the other story he was going to run,” Keith argues. “Nobody even knows who I am at this school, and I could care less what they think of me.”

“But I’ve already gone through this with one of my friends,” Lance says. “Rolo is a bully and a jerk. We have to report him to the school or something!”

“We don’t have time. Rolo wants to run the story first thing on Monday.” Keith shakes his head when Lance starts to argue again. “Acxa is already talking to Lotor and Shiro about finding out more about the Garrison Gossip blog. Apparently a benefit of being in their group is having knowledge on almost anyone in the school.”

“You’re part of their group now? The Princes?” Lance asks, more curious than anything else. Lotor’s friends hold a lot of social power; it would be easy to denounce Rolo with them on his side. “Are you gonna start sitting with them at lunch and stuff?”

“I guess I could, if I wanted to. But I’d rather stay with you, if that’s okay.” Keith unlocks his phone and opens the messenger, scrolling through a conversation to get to the top. “He was talking about you and someone named Florona Waverly. Hunk told me she used to be your best friend.”

Lance glances over the messages, frown deepening as he continues. “That jerk,” he growls, glaring. “We’re going to take him down, Keith, I promise.”

Keith nods. “We will,” he says. “But I have to give the story to Rolo. Just in case. I won’t let him hurt you and Hunk and Pidge anymore.”

“But he’ll hurt _you_ ,” Lance reminds him. “I know you say you can handle it, but kids at this school can be seriously cruel. When Flora-”

He stops nervously, staring down at the screen. Rolo gave Keith the essential details of the story, but how much has he heard from other people?

“How much did Hunk tell you?” he asks, glancing up at Keith.

“Not much. He left it to you to explain--not that you have to.”

“No, I… I want to explain.” Lance takes a deep breath, twisting his fingers together nervously. “Flora- Florona was one of my best friends for years and years. My sister Pilar was her best friend, too.”

Lance pauses, trying to collect his thoughts. “Two summers ago, she fell for this really bad guy. He manipulated her, used her, and he disappeared the day she found out she was pregnant. She… She was devastated, you know?”

Keith nods, encouraging him to continue with a hand on his shoulder.

“The baby was the only part of him she had left. She loved it--of course she did. She still loved him, even after everything he’d done. And so she decided to keep it, even though everyone warned her not to. She did everything she could to make sure the baby was healthy, and as happy as it could be inside someone’s stomach.” Lance laughs bitterly. “It wasn’t enough. Something happened--it was a premature birth.”

Keith takes his hand, rubbing it gently with his thumb. “Lance…”

“She loved her baby with everything she had left,” Lance says, feeling his throat close up. “I mean, she carried it for almost eight months, and then it died before she even got to hold it. It ruined her.”

“What do you mean?” Keith asks, using his other hand to trace patterns on Lance’s arm.

“After she was released from the hospital, she kind of… went dark. She cut Pilar and me out, started hanging out with the stoners and the shoplifters. She cut class, started smoking, hurt herself. She was destructive.”

Lance glances up at Keith, who is staring off into nothing. He looks sad--not in the way that comes from sympathy, but from relatability, instead. For the first time, he wonders what happened between Keith’s parents that made them divorce, why Keith doesn’t ever visit his mom--or even talk about her. He knows that Keith’s dad met Acxa’s mom during a personal trip a couple of cities away from here, but Keith never mentions anything else about the move.

“Do you want to stop?” Keith asks, looking in his direction. Lance shakes his head.

“You pretty much know the rest. She got worse and worse, and then on her birthday she decided it was too much. I found her barely conscious in the bathroom, all bloody and stuff, and I don’t really remember much after that. That was the last time I saw her.”

“I’m sorry,” Keith says quietly. “You shouldn’t have had to see that.”

Lance shrugs. “At least we found her. She barely made it, and when she tried to hurt herself again at the hospital, her parents decided to send her to a recovery home for minors.”

“Are you not allowed to visit her?” Keith asks.

“We were, after a little while,” Lance says. “It was actually on my birthday that we went for the first time. Just me and Pilar.”

“Did something happen?”

Lance sighs, then nods. “I flipped out,” he explains. “When she was in the hospital, I refused to go into the room because I didn’t want to believe that it really happened. And when Pilar tried to take me into Third Sea, I just… couldn’t. I started screaming, and everyone thought I was going in to be admitted or something, but in the end I just waited in the car the whole time.”

“Lance…”

“Remember when we went stargazing?” Lance asks. “I, uh, wished that I’d be brave enough to visit her soon. But I don’t know… Today was her birthday. Pilar went to visit her at Third Sea, and she tried to get me to come with her again, but… I’m scared of seeing her. Stupid, huh?”

“It’s not stupid,” Keith says, frowning. “I get it, Lance. Seeing her again is a big thing.”

Lance shrugs, changing the subject. “Rolo wrote an article about her pregnancy before, but after she tried to… He did a follow up, including an interview with the father. Someone found him living in a motel and working at a gas station after he dropped out of high school, and they reported it to the Garrison Gossip. He didn’t have a lot of nice things to say about Florona, let’s just leave it at that. It was too much for Pilar--she left for Altea Academy before the year was over, but I stayed for Hunk and Pidge.”

“Is that why he was bothering you earlier in the semester?” Keith asks. “Rolo, I mean.”

Lance shakes his head. “He was just looking for some gossip about Lotor, but… He likes manipulating people, you know? He sort of threatened me into talking, and when I wouldn’t, that’s when things got ugly.”

“Does he do that to a lot of people?” Keith asks. Lance nods, thinking back to all the times he’d heard about new terrible stories starting gossip around the school.

“His blog updates like, three or four times a month at _least_ ,” he says. “He’s probably written about most of the people at the school at least once since he started.”

“What if we got people to come forward about it to the principal or something?” Keith suggests. “Rolo said that nobody can trace his blog back to him, right? And he just makes a new account when they shut his old one down. But what if we get enough people to like, say that he’s the one who wrote about them?”

“It wouldn’t work,” Lance says. “Nobody wants to stand up to him. He’s a bully _and_ he’s ridiculously smart, and if it didn’t work he’d probably write a billion articles about everyone who was involved. Plus, the blog isn’t on a Garrison website, so it’s not like they could do anything about _that_.”

“Isn’t it worth a shot?”

“I don’t know. We definitely couldn’t get people to talk.”

“Maybe _we_ couldn’t,” Keith says. “But Acxa and Lotor probably could. Hunk offered to help with whatever he can, too. And if we get his parents involved or something, they could force him to shut down his blog.”

“You think it would work?” Lance stops to think for a second. Even he knows that he’d been exaggerating when he’d called the Princes the royalty of the Garrison. It’s not like they can threaten people into doing what they want, like Rolo does. But they’re skilled, talented, smart, and undoubtedly gorgeous--purely from an objective angle. There’s a reason Rolo doesn’t like them, after all; they’re the type of people who demand attention just by walking in the room. They’re his biggest threat.

Maybe they could be his downfall, after all.

“I don’t know,” he says finally. “Rolo has dirt on _everyone_. But it could work, if it happened fast enough.”

“It’s worth a shot,” Keith agrees. “After everything he’s done to you and your friends, that guy’s going down one way or another. I promise.”

For the first time all night, Lance smiles a genuine smile. “Thanks, man, I appreciate it,” he says.

“Yeah. And if you ever need to talk, or anything…” Keith pauses, glancing up at him nervously. “I mean, if you want to.”

“Thanks,” Lance says again. “I’ll definitely take you up on that. After all, you _have_ been advising me as Unknown for _weeks_.”

He rubs at his eyes, suddenly aware of how tired he is. Even the adrenaline rush of remembering that Keith is Unknown can’t distract him from his exhaustion any longer.

“I’ll ask Acxa to come pick me up,” Keith says, patting him on the shoulder. “You should get some sleep.”

“I’ll wait with you,” Lance says as Keith pulls out his phone. “It’s the least I can do after all this.”

“But you’re practically dead on your feet.”

“It’s fine.” He waves Keith off, stifling a yawn. “I’ve gone through worse. Plus, I want to wait for Pilar to get home.”

“If you say so,” Keith says, setting his phone on the deck. “I wish tonight weren’t so cloudy. We could see the stars.”

“Maybe there will be another clear night soon,” Lance suggests, looking up at the sky. He hopes so. Wishing on a star can only get him so far, but it makes him feel a hell of a lot better than just sitting at home, doing nothing.

Keith hums in agreement, watching as moonlight breaks through a gap in the clouds. “You… You weren’t lying before, right?” he asks hesitantly. “I promise, this is the last time I’ll ask. You aren’t mad at me for what I said on Wednesday, or for being Unknown, or the stuff with Lotor or anything?”

“Dude,” Lance says, taking his hand and interlacing their fingers in the space between them. “You can relax. I’ve never been happier.”

* * *

“Lance, wake up.”

A gentle hand shakes his shoulder, not stopping until he opens his eyes. The porch light is off, and the only light comes from the headlights of Pilar’s car.

“You’re back,” he says groggily, raising his head from where it rests against the porch railing. Briefly, he thinks he feels the ghost of a kiss against his lips, but it’s gone just as quickly.

“What are you doing out here, _tonto_? Does Mami know you fell asleep outside?” Pilar asks, glancing up at the silent house.

“She knew I wanted to wait up for you,” Lance says, pulling the blanket around him tighter. His mom had stubbornly tried to get him inside as soon as Keith had left, but he’d just as stubbornly refused to go to bed until Pilar came back. They’d settled on a compromise--if she wasn’t back by twelve thirty, he’d come to bed.

“What time is it?” he asks, glancing down at his phone on the porch. He blinks blearily into the bright light it casts when he turns it on. Just a little after twelve fifteen.

“You shouldn’t have waited up,” Pilar says, rolling her eyes. “What if I’d decided to stay over at a friend’s or something?”

“I knew you’d come home,” Lance replies. Her face falls a little.

“But I didn’t know if you’d be here,” she says. “I’m sorry about our fight. It’s just… Flora really misses you.”

“I miss her, too,” Lance admits, staring down at the ground. “I just don’t… I don’t think I can see her yet.”

“Of course,” Pilar says. “And I shouldn’t have pushed you like I did. But… Maybe you could come with me sometime soon?”

“Maybe,” Lance agrees, nodding. “Maybe Hunk and Pidge and Keith can come, too? Just… for moral support.”

“Of course,” Pilar says again, patting him on the shoulder. “And I’ll be with you the whole time. Now, let’s get you to bed. You’re gonna need it if you want to get rid of those dark circles.”

* * *

On Sunday morning, Lance gets a message from the Garrison asking him to come into the office the next day before school. On Sunday afternoon, he gets a message from Rolo with nothing more than a link to an article from the Garrison Gossip blog.

He doesn’t need to read it to know which story it is. Keith came through for Rolo in order to save him; he’s sure of it.

* * *

Pilar drives him to school the next day. She tells him about her visit with Flora, how she’s ready to start visiting the “outside world” now, and how she asked about him again. Lance is kind of surprised when his sister insists on coming in to testify against Rolo and the Garrison Gossip, since he’s partially responsible for what happened to Florona as well. Pilar’s never been very fond of the Garrison--she hadn’t even bothered to visit until last week.

When Lance walks into the office, there are at least ten people inside, with several more spilling out into the hall. It’s not quite the spectacular turnout he’d been secretly hoping for, but it’s enough--enough to get the blog shut down, and more than enough to make him want to punch Rolo in the face several more times once it hits him that all these people have articles about them on the blog--all these people and _more_.

He sees Lotor and Acxa leaning against the wall opposite the office. Lotor waves and smiles tentatively, and Lance waves back, but aside from the excitement of being acknowledged by a Prince, there’s not much else there. Maybe he’s finally, truly, completely over Lotor and everything bad from the last year of his life. Maybe he’s finally ready to move on.

Keith is inside the office, trading glares with Rolo behind principal Iverson’s back. Along with the two of them, Lance spots Hunk and Pidge off in one corner, and several other familiar faces--Shay, Mae Plaxum, Alana, and even Rolo’s supposed writer in training, Nyma Omiata.

Principal Iverson’s face lights up when he sees Pilar. “Miss Fuentes!” he exclaims in the annoyingly cheerful/formal way principles talk to old students. “It’s wonderful to see you again. How is Florona?”

“Doing better,” is all Pilar says. Iverson looks relieved.

“Now Mr. and Mrs. Obasi, as you can see, we’ve had several complaints about your son supposedly running a gossip blog which embarrasses and hurts other students. At first, we didn’t want to believe--”

Lance snorts and tries to hide it in a cough, but if Pidge rolling her eyes at him is anything to go by, it doesn’t exactly work.

“As I was saying,” Iverson continues, pasting on a fake smile. “We didn’t want to believe the rumors. Rolo has always been such a… talented student, we thought there must have been some mistake. But with the sheer amount of complaints we’ve received…”

“How many, exactly, have you received?” Rolo’s mom asks, looking around the crowded room.

“To be exact… Thirty four in the last three days,” Iverson replies, his smile wavering. Lance’s eyes widen and he shoots Keith an appreciative look. There’s no way he’d have been able to get that many students in such a limited amount of time without the Princes’ help.

“There must be some mistake,” Rolo’s dad says, glancing between Rolo and Iverson like he doesn’t know who to blame. “My son would never do something as… as _crass_ as running a _gossip blog_!”

“This must be some kind of prank,” Rolo says, glaring hard at Keith. “I would never. Where would I even find the time?”

“Unfortunately, with the sheer number of complaints we’ve received within the last week--let alone over the years--we’re forced to believe that this is the truth.”

Pilar scoffs. Lance knows she’s thinking about their complaints against Rolo from last year and how the school board did absolutely nothing about it.

It’s too bad they didn’t have Keith and the Princes last year. Lance wonders if Flora would have liked them. She never had much to say about the Princes, aside from calling them smart. He figures that she’d probably like Keith, though--who wouldn’t like Keith? Especially after hearing about everything he’s done for Lance.

“This is ridiculous,” Rolo grumbles. “I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“You invaded the privacy of over a hundred students, used the Garrison messenger app for purposes that break the code of conduct and contract you signed at the beginning of the year, and if I’m not mistaken, you played a largely antagonistic role in Florona Waverly’s pregnancy and suicide attempt last year,” Iverson retorts, ticking the list off on his fingers. “After deep consideration, we’ve decided to label these incidents as cyberbullying and non-sexual harassment.”

Pilar huffs indignantly. Iverson was never her favorite teacher when she’d been a student at the Garrison, Lance knows, and after he’d half-assed the handling of Flora’s “issues”, she’d pretty much hated him.

“We assure you, this kind of behavior did _not_ come from home,” Mr. Obasi says to Iverson, ignoring Rolo’s disdainful huff. “And we’re ready to do whatever it takes to make up for it.”

“Normally, if this situation arose, we’d have to expel the student on several grounds,” Iverson replies. “Especially because of his involvement with Florona Waverly. But because of Rolo’s academic standard and the lack of previous issues, save for some minor physical violence earlier in the year, I think a long-term suspension will do.”

“Are you serious?!” Pidge exclaims, jumping to her feet. “Suspensions can only last twenty days. What are you gonna do when he comes back?”

“You’re basically letting him off the hook and giving him a vacation!” Alana adds, standing as well. “This is ridiculous.”

“If I may finish,” Iverson snaps, before turning back to Rolo’s parents. “Rolo’s Garrison messenger account will be frozen to the default settings, and all messages from said account will be heavily monitored.”

“Good luck with that,” Alana says, crossing her arms. “He doesn’t use _his_ account for the Garrison Gossip’s. He gets old accounts from people who graduated.”

“All old accounts will be deleted permanently, to prevent anything like this from happening again,” Iverson assures them. “As for Rolo’s blog, there’s nothing the school can do about it.”

“We’ll make sure that Rolo shuts it down,” Mrs. Obasi promises. “In fact, we’ll change the passcode ourselves so that he can’t access it anymore.”

“Mom!” Rolo exclaims. “I’ve got non-gossip articles on there, too, you know. Where am I supposed to practice journalism now?”

“Certainly not on the Garrison Times’s team,” Iverson says. “You’re permanently suspended from the school newspaper.”

“That’s ridiculous!”

Lance snorts. “No, it’s completely fair. What’s ridiculous is that you’ve gotten away with this for so long.”

“Shut _up_ , Fuentes,” Rolo snaps. “This is _your_ fault, you know.”

“I know,” Lance replies. “And I’m proud.”

“That will be all, if you’re done, gentlemen,” Iverson says. “Mr. and Mrs. Obasi, I know you have to get to work, but I’d like to discuss this more with you over email. We still need to figure out the details of Rolo’s suspension.”

“Of course,” Rolo’s dad promises, extending his hand for Iverson to shake. “We’ll be taking Rolo home, now.”

As he’s guided out of the room, Rolo leans over and whispers something in Lance’s ear. “You’re going down, Fuentes,” he hisses. “You and your friends better watch your backs.”

And with that, the meeting is over.

* * *

_8:34 am_

_pidge: that was awesome!!_

_Mattt: god i wish i was there_

_Hunk-a-saurus: It was freaking great, man!_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Rolo’s not updating his blog anytime soon, that’s for sure_

_pidge: it’s a shame that all that blackmail material is going to waste, though._

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Really, Pidge?_

_Mattt: no shes on2 sumthing_

_Hunk-a-saurus: What are you thinking?_

_pidge: it sure has been a long time since i hacked anything…_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: True…_

_pidge: and we wouldn’t want the Garrison Gossip to fall into the wrong hands, now, would we?_

_Mattt: i like the way u think lttl sis_

_pidge: why thank you ;)_

Keith leans over, taps Lance on the shoulder, and whispers, “Hey, are we going to tell them?” His breath ghosts across Lance’s cheek, his face mere inches from Lance’s.

Lance thinks about it for a second, not bothering to lean away. “I don’t know. Is it okay with you if we do?”

“Sure,” Keith says. “Hunk already knows, after all. And they’re a part of Unknown’s story, too.”

“Speaking of stories, they might have already read it on Rolo’s former blog.”

“I doubt it. Don’t you all make a point of _not_ going on that blog?”

“Yeah, we do,” Lance says. “So, when should we do it?”

“At lunch?” Keith suggests. “We could go somewhere other than the cafeteria for once.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Lance agrees, elbowing Keith gently. “Can’t wait, _Unknown_.”

“Shut up,” Keith laughs, ducking his head. “Don’t make me regret telling you.”

“You don’t right?” Lance asks, smile dropping from his face. Keith rolls his eyes playfully.

“Of course not, you idiot,” he says, elbowing Lance back. “Now, where’s a good place to have lunch around here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kind of sad that Unknown is almost over, but it's been a really positive experience for me to post it, especially thanks to all the positive feedback you all have left. I'm excited for the Unknown series to continue, and I hope you are too! Suggestions for the series are always welcome.  
> [Pepple's artwork for Chapters 11 & 12](http://pepplemint.tumblr.com/post/170237764370/so-a-billion-years-later-i-come-bearing-more-art)!


	13. Keith

Lance practically vibrates out of his skin with excitement during the first two periods of the day. Keith rolls his eyes when he refuses to tell Pidge what’s up, but is secretly excited himself. And nervous. Hunk and Matt already know, but admitting it to them for real is a lot scarier than being figured out. Hunk was the one who’d called Unknown “creepy” in the first place, after all, and Matt had never seemed too big a fan, either. What if they decide to reject him, after all?

Lance reaches over and squeezes his hand comfortingly, and Keith remembers the way they’d kissed a few nights ago. _Lance didn’t reject Unknown_ , he thinks. _You’re worrying too much. Everything will be okay._

The bell rings, and Lance looks at him excitedly while simultaneously shoving papers into his backpack. “Are you ready?” he asks, voice dripping with anticipation.

“I guess,” Keith says, but he can’t help the grin that spreads across his face at Lance’s excitement. “Come on, Pidge already suspects that we’re up to something.”

“You can say that again,” Pidge says, her head appearing on Lance’s other side. “What am I, invisible?”

“Of course not!” Lance exclaims, though he still looks guilty. “Sorry, Pidge. Let’s go to lunch. We can explain there.”

The three of them head out of the classroom and towards the lockers, where Hunk and Matt are waiting. Hunk smiles at Keith, but his expression wavers when he looks over at Lance. Keith glances over as well, noting how Lance suddenly looks pale.

“Did you make up with Hunk after we talked?” he asks, remembering Hunk’s comments from last Friday. They’d fought about Unknown, but he hasn’t heard anything about them making up.

Lance shakes his head and swallows nervously. “We talked over the messenger a little earlier,” he admits quietly, “but it was all in the heat of the moment. I don’t know if he’ll forgive me after I said all that stuff about not trusting him.”

“Hey,” Keith says, resting a hand on Lance’s shoulder and leaning close to him so Pidge doesn’t hear. “I’m sure he’ll understand. He was just trying to protect me, and you didn’t know that at the time.”

“I know, I know.” Lance looks even more worried as they stop in front of Hunk, who glances at Keith questioningly. Keith nudges Lance forward, trying to act reassuring and not let his nervousness show. He already feels awful about getting between Lance and Hunk, and he’d feel even worse if his secret did any permanent damage to their friendship.

Lance shuffles in front of Hunk awkwardly, then clears his throat. “I’m sorry about all that stuff I said to you last week,” he begins. “I didn’t know why you were acting the way you were, and I guess I just jumped to conclusions.”

“It’s not like you were wrong,” Hunk offers with a warm smile. “And I know you were going through a rough time. I should have tried harder to be there for you, but I was kinda dealing with some stuff at home.”

“Don’t try to take the blame, man,” Lance says, shaking his head. “I’m the one who was being unreasonable. I’m sorry I said that I didn’t trust you. You know I do--with everything. You’re my best friend.”

“And you’re mine, too, you know.”

Matt frowns at Keith questioningly. Keith mouths _I’ll explain later_ and hopes he understands.

“So,” Lance says, looking at Hunk hopefully. “Am I forgiven? I know that I suck, and I promise, I’ll never blow up at you like that again. You’re more to me than just some… I don’t know, some punching bag or something.”

“I know that,” Hunk says with a playful roll of his eyes. “And you’re totally forgiven. _If_ I get to hear about what happened on Friday.”

“Yeah, what _did_ happen on Friday?” Pidge asks, raising her eyebrow. “I didn’t hear much after Keith went on that wild goose chase looking for you.”

“Come on, we’ll explain as soon as we get off campus,” Lance says. “I was thinking we could go to Sal’s for a change.”

“I could go for some pizza,” Matt agrees. “Besides, the lunchroom is gonna be _loud_ after what happened with Rolo today.”

“I still can’t believe he didn’t get expelled permanently,” Pidge says. “Especially after Pilar showed up. What was Iverson thinking?”

“His family is pretty influential to the school,” Hunk points out. “I guess Mr. Iverson didn’t want to upset them any more than he had to.”

“You’re probably right,” Lance says, then turns to Keith. “You ready?” he asks quietly. Keith nods, then turns to the door.

“Shall we?”

* * *

Sal’s pizzeria is nothing special. Keith wonders why Acxa and Lotor even like going here, since it doesn’t exactly seem to be their scene. It’s more fit for Lance, Hunk, Pidge, and Matt, who slide into the booth in the back like the most normal group of high schoolers ever. Keith sits between Hunk and Lance, Pidge and Matt facing them on the other side.

“So, what’s all the fuss about?” Pidge asks. “We haven’t been to Sal’s since Hunk’s birthday in January.”

“Well…” Lance looks at Keith questioningly. Keith nods, then takes a deep breath. He doesn’t know why he’s nervous; Hunk and Matt already know, and they’ve been nothing but supportive since finding out, and it’s not like Pidge is gonna cut him off or make fun of him. But it’s not like all his anxieties about being rejected can just float away with a little logic. He stares down at the floor, suddenly doubtful.

“It’ll be okay,” Lance whispers, leaning into Keith a little. Keith sighs, nodding hard, like he’s trying to convince himself.

“Okay,” he whispers back, then looks up again. Pidge and Matt look at him expectantly, but not unkindly.

“I, uh… I’m Unknown,” he admits, focusing his attention on the middle of the table. “Well, _was_ Unknown. I don’t think that Unknown really exists anymore, you know, ‘cause it’s me. But I mean, it was me behind the messages and stuff. And then Rolo blackmailed me, so I had to tell Lance, and it’s only fair that I tell you guys, too, even though…”

He trails off uncertainly, feeling heat rush to his face. His announcement hadn’t exactly been as graceful as he might have liked, but at least now they know.

“I know,” Pidge says. It takes Keith a second to register that she doesn’t mean _I know now_ , she means _I know_ , but Lance is already ahead of him.

“Pidge, you _knew_?!”

“Well, _yeah_ ,” Pidge says, rolling her eyes. “I was only a little suspicious at first, but with all that stuff you said at the party, and then during the egg drop… I mean, it was kind of obvious. And when you went looking for Lance on Friday? That’s when I knew for sure.”

“What, and you didn’t tell me?!”

“I didn’t think it would go well if _I_ was the one to tell you,” Pidge says. “Better to let you two work it out on your own.”

“I can’t believe my own sister would keep something like that from me!” Matt exclaims indignantly, mock-glaring at Pidge.

“ _That’s_ what you’re shocked about right now?” Lance says, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, yeah. I already knew that Keith was Unknown,” Matt replies, rolling his eyes. Pidge smacks him in the arm.

“Why are you complaining about _me_ keeping secrets, then?” she asks. “How long have you known for sure?”

“I figured it out like two weeks ago,” Matt admits. Lance does a double take, then shakes his head like a wet dog.

“Wait, _what_?!” he exclaims. “You _all_ knew and none of you told me?”

“Hunk knew?” Pidge asks curiously, turning her attention to Keith’s other side. Hunk grins sheepishly.

“I figured it out a few days after the party,” he admits. Keith drops his head onto the table.

“I’m really that obvious?” he groans, muffled into the fabric of his sleeve.

“And _I’m_ really that oblivious?” Lance adds, sounding just as distressed. “I can’t believe nobody said anything!”

“To be fair, I _did_ try to push you in the right direction,” Hunk says. “You’re just very… hard to direct.”

“I didn’t think I was really involved enough to interfere,” Matt supplies.

“And I only found out for sure right before you did.”

“Yeah, but you were _suspicious_. That has to count for something!”

“It’s all in the past now, anyway,” Keith says, raising his head. “And I’m really glad that it is.”

“So, you’re not still gonna stop talking to Lance, right?” Hunk asks, turning to him seriously. “I mean, not after everything’s worked itself out.”

“Wait, what do you mean? You were gonna stop talking to me?” Lance looks between Keith and Hunk questioningly, sounding slightly alarmed. Keith looks down again, embarrassed.

“It sounds really dumb now, but… I thought it would be hard to talk to you if you hated me,” he mumbles. There’s a moment of silence between the four of them before Lance starts to laugh.

“You were _really_ worried, weren’t you,” he says, dropping his head onto Keith’s shoulder. Keith huffs indignantly.

“Excuse me for caring what you think of me,” he mutters. Lance shakes his head, the movement jostling both of them, and drops his hand on top of Keith’s below the table.

“Don’t worry. I’ll reassure you as many times as you need me to,” he promises, lifting his head so Keith can hear him better. The hairs on the back of Keith’s neck stand up at their proximity.

“Aww, look at them,” Matt coos teasingly. Keith rolls his eyes, ignoring the chill that runs through him as Lance’s breath ghosts across his skin.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, fighting to keep the embarrassed smile off his face. “Are we going to order or what?”

* * *

Pidge pulls out her laptop halfway through Keith’s second slice of cheese pizza, starting to type furiously as soon as the screen lights up. Matt rolls his eyes and mutters something that sounds like “No electronics at the dinner table, Pidgeon.” He’s got a mouth full of veggie pizza, so Keith can’t be sure.

“What are you doing?” Hunk asks, leaning over the table for a better view.

“I want to see if I can hack the Garrison Gossip blog,” Pidge explains. “We talked about it over the messenger, remember?”

“ _That’s_ what you were talking about? I didn’t pick up on that at all.”

“What would you even do once you got into the blog?” Keith asks curiously, watching the light from the screen reflect off Pidge’s glasses. She looks like a tiny villain, what with her devious expression and the way she’s hunched over her computer.

“I don’t know, mess around with it. If it’s not deleted yet, we could change the password and keep it for ourselves,” she suggests.

“Or we could make sure it stays hidden forever,” Lance adds. “You know, so there’s no chance of anyone reviving it.”

“But what fun would that be?”

“I agree with Pidge,” Matt says. “Maybe we could get a little revenge on Rolo or something, you know? Delete all the old stories and turn it into a meme account. I bet he’d just _love_ that.”

“Or we could give it to somebody else for safekeeping,” Keith suggests. “I mean, Rolo will probably have it out for us, and if he finds out we stole his account, it’ll be even worse.”

“So let him,” Pidge says. “He probably won’t get the chance to do anything to us now that his parents know what he’s up to.”

“Plus they don’t know _all_ that he’s up to,” Lance adds. “I bet they wouldn’t be too pleased to find out their precious son spends his free time smoking in the school parking lot.”

“We’re not actually considering blackmailing Rolo, are we?” Hunk asks, sounding worried.

“Just daydreaming,” Pidge assures him. “Besides, he’s not really our problem anymore. By the way, I got in.”

Now it’s Lance’s turn to lean over the table, craning his neck at an angle that looks borderline painful in order to see the screen. “Awesome, Pidge!” he exclaims. “What are you doing now?”

“Changing the password to RoloSucks13,” Pidge says. Keith snorts, because that’s such a Pidge thing to do.

“For real though, what should we do with it?” Hunk asks. “I mean, wouldn’t it be safer to just let it be?”

“But what fun would that be?” Matt replies. “Right, Keith?” he adds, turning to look at Keith.

“I don’t know, maybe. I think we should just lie low for a while, though,” Keith says. Hunk shoots him a grateful look.

“Fine,” Pidge says with an over-exaggerated sigh. She takes a clean napkin from the dispenser on the table and produces a pen out of nowhere, writing down a string of numbers and letters.

“This is the code you use to view the account,” she says, sliding the napkin over to Keith. “The other one is if you want to post or edit. Keep it somewhere safe for now.”

Keith takes the code and shoves it in his pocket, willing himself to forget about it for the time being. Maybe in the future he’ll burn the napkin symbolically. Who knows?

“So,” Hunk says, “now we all know everything, right? No more secrets?”

“Except for Matt’s secret project,” Pidge says. “Which I’m sure isn’t that interesting, anyway.”

“Hey! It’s plenty interesting.”

“Riiiiight. I’m pretty sure most of us forgot about it after everything that happened on Friday.”

Matt huffs. “Well, aside from that, I’ve got nothing.”

“Me either,” Hunk says. “I think the reign of secrets is finally over.”

“Not that it lasted too long, anyway,” Pidge says. “I mean, it’s only been like a month.”

“Feels like longer,” Lance says, wiping sauce off his mouth. “Maybe that was just the suspense, though.”

“No, you’re right,” Keith agrees. “I feel like I sent that first message years ago. I guess a lot has changed since then.”

The bell above the door chimes as another group of Garrison students walks in. One of them makes eye contact with Keith, snorts, and leans over to whisper something to their friend.

“Jerks,” Pidge says, following his line of vision. “Don’t worry about them, Keith. They probably believe everything the Garrison Gossip’s ever blogged about.”

Right, the story. Keith had kind of forgotten about it being posted with all the other revelations, confessions, and exposings going on. The post hadn’t gotten a lot of comments, but the two Keith had allowed himself to look at had been… not so nice.

“You’ll live it down eventually,” Matt assures him. “Did Pidge ever tell you about the story Rolo wrote about _her_? Man, it was-”

“We get it, Matt!” Pidge yells, glaring her brother down. “Anyway,” she continues, turning to Keith, “I’m sure not that many people read it, and besides, it’s deleted now. I made sure of it.”

“Thanks,” Keith says, casting a final glance in the direction of the students. Lance rolls his eyes.

“Vultures, all of them,” he says. “I guess their parents didn’t teach them compassion when they were kids or something.”

“Still, it would probably be good for us to not talk about Unknown at school,” Keith says, wiping his fingers on a paper napkin.

“And you might want to change your Garrison messenger name, too,” Hunk adds. “We can do it now, if you want.”

“What? No, you should keep the name!” Matt exclaims. “It’s like an inside joke or something. Plus, someone will probably try to impersonate Unknown if you give the name up.”

“Actually, I think I can hack into the Garrison admin system and ban the name Unknown from the messenger,” Pidge says, adjusting her glasses. “That way no one can use the name, and Keith can pick one out for himself.”

“What do you think?” Lance asks, turning to Keith. “You want a new messenger name?”

Keith thinks back for a second on Unknown. The name has served him well so far, doing exactly what it was originally supposed to and more. It kept his identity a secret while allowing him to get close to Lance, and in the end it even helped get Rolo’s blog taken down. But he doesn’t need it anymore. He can be himself.

“Help me think of one?” Keith asks, looking back at Lance. A grin spreads across Lance’s face.

“Of course, Keith,” he says.

* * *

He’s putting the finishing touches on his lion and chatting to Lotor about Rolo’s expulsion when he hears a quiet “woah” from behind him. Turning, he sees Lance staring at his project in awe.

“Hey,” he says, immediately breaking into a smile. Lance grins back, eyes moving from the lion to Keith.

“Hey yourself,” he repeats, coming closer. “Allura let us out early, so I thought I’d come pick you up before Theater Arts.”

“Oh, thanks.” Keith looks down at his hands, which are covered in red paint. “I should probably clean up first, though.”

“Your lion looks amazing, by the way,” Lance says, looking behind him again. “What’s her name?”

“How do you know it’s a girl?” Keith asks, turning to look at it again. He hadn’t really thought about naming his project.

“She just seems like a girl,” Lance replies, bending down to get a closer look. “Not that I’ve broken my policy on not assuming. But she _is_ a paper mache lion, so…”

“She can be a girl,” Keith says. “And i haven’t named her yet.”

“What about Red? She seems like a Red.”

“Okay,” Keith agrees. “Red it is.”

“So you made this out of paper mache?”

“Yeah, but not completely. Lotor and I thought our sculptures would be too heavy if they were completely solid, so we did the base with wire,” Keith explains.

“It was completely Keith’s idea,” Lotor adds. Keith and Lance both jump slightly at the sound of his voice, and for a second Keith feels guilty about forgetting he was there.

“That’s smart,” Lance says hesitantly, offering a small smile. Keith wonders if he should ask Lotor to walk with them. It might give Lance a chance to get closer to the Princes--although at this point, Keith isn’t even sure if he still _wants_ to. Lance hasn’t said much about the Princes since before Keith confessed to being Unknown, but it’s not like they’d had a ton of free time for gossip on their hands.

The bell rings, and students around them start cleaning their supplies up and storing their projects. Keith bends down to gather his paints and brushes.

“Are you two heading up to the auditorium?” Lotor asks, wiping his hands on a paint-stained rag.

“Yeah, in just a second,” Keith says, straightening up. “We can wait for you if you want.”

“No, you go on ahead,” Lotor says, setting the cloth down and picking up his palette. “I can get those for you,” he offers, gesturing to Keith’s unwashed supplies.

“Oh, uh, thanks.” Keith gently moves Red a few feet over to the side of the classroom, then goes to watch his hands. Lance follows him, admiring the work of the other students while he waits.

“Who knew the Garrison was such an artistic place,” he says after a few seconds, turning back to Keith. “I mean, I thought people just took Studio Art to get an easy A.”

“Some of them do,” Keith admits, watching as the red-tinted water swirls down the sink. “It doesn’t have homework, either, which is nice.”

“That’s one of the things I like about Theater Arts,” Lance says. “I mean, I like the class, too, but it’s nice to have a period where we can just hang out and have fun.”

“And stress out about memorizing lines, and try to build seven sets in two weeks, and design costumes we can’t afford,” Keith jokes, turning off the water. “Ready to go?”

“If you are,” Lance replies.

“Sure you don’t want to wait for Lotor?”

“Yeah,” Lance says. “I don’t know… I told you before, but now I’m sure I don’t actually like him like that anymore. Maybe I was just using him as a placeholder until someone I _actually_ liked came along.”

Keith snorts. “That’s what Matt says. But I don’t know, you _were_ kind of weirdly obsessed with him…”

“Oh, shut up.” Lance grins and pushes him playfully as they head towards the stairs. “At least I didn’t internet stalk him for a month.”

“That’s different,” Keith argues. “I mean, it’s not like I- uh… I was just being a good person, you know?”

“Yeah, and you know I appreciate it,” Lance says fondly, ruffling Keith’s hair. Keith bats his hand away and rolls his eyes.

“Whatever,” he mumbles, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Anyway, you have nothing to worry about,” Lance continues. “I’m completely over Lotor. Like, one-hundred-percent done with romanticizing him into something he’s not.”

“Good for you,” Keith says, then falters. “Nothing to worry about?” he asks hesitantly, hoping desperately that Lance doesn’t mean what he thinks. Did Pidge tell him about suspecting Keith’s crush earlier? Did he figure it out on his own? Is he just kidding?

Lance winks, then turns back to the hallway in front of them. “Come on,” he says, “we’re gonna be late if we keep slowing down.”

* * *

_3:46 pm_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself added Cryptid-Keith to the chat_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: EYYYYY_

_Hunk-a-saurus: Hey Keith!_

_pidge: welcome to the best Garrison group chat to ever exist._

_Mattt: its jst memes n screams my dude_

_Cryptid-Keith: I know, Lance showed me during Theater Arts._

_Hunk-a-saurus: How far back did you guys go?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: About a month_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Had to show him what you guys said the first time he messaged me_

_pidge: was it too bad?_

_Cryptid-Keith: It was fine._

_Hunk-a-saurus: Sorry I called you creepy_

_Cryptid-Keith: I would have done the same._

_Mattt: p sure i alwys supported u but correct me if im wrong_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Matt, you didn’t really “support” Unknown_

_pidge: I always thought unknown was cool._

_Hunk-a-saurus: I think he’s had enough of us sucking up to him_

_Mattt: sexual_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Gross, dude_

_pidge: so now you’re finally able to use the messenger for real._

_Cryptid-Keith: Yeah, guess so._

_Hunk-a-saurus: You don’t sound too excited about that_

_Cryptid-Keith: No, I am._

_Cryptid-Keith: After almost a month of being Unknown, I guess the messenger isn’t the most exciting thing in the world._

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Sometimes a little break from exciting is nice, though_

_pidge: I could use a break from everything right now._

_pidge: the last week has been Dramatic._

_Hunk-a-saurus: Speaking of drama, Allura’s looking your way, Lance_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Oh shit brb_

_Cryptid-Keith: Hunk, why are you in drama club?_

_Cryptid-Keith: I thought you were in robotics club._

_Hunk-a-saurus: I’m focusing on the play for now_

_Hunk-a-saurus: So I temporarily switched clubs_

_pidge: he left me alone in robotics!_

_Mattt: im here 2_

_pidge: all alone…_

_Cryptid-Keith: How tragic._

_Hunk-a-saurus: It’s weird having another person in this chat_

_Hunk-a-saurus: I like it_

_pidge: and now that Lancey Lance is hiding from Allura, we can interrogate his boyfriend._

_Cryptid-Keith: Not his boyfriend._

_Mattt: oh this shld be fun_

_Cryptid-Keith: Please, no._

_Hunk-a-saurus: Sorry Keith_

_pidge: there’s no way you’re getting out of this one, buddy._

_pidge: first question: why did you first message Lance?_

_Hunk-a-saurus: Good one_

_Cryptid-Keith: We’ve gone over this before!_

_Mattt: not rlly_

_Hunk-a-saurus: Yeah I’m still curious_

_Cryptid-Keith: He just looked really down that day, okay?_

_pidge: oh my god, Keith, did you used to stalk Lance?_

_Cryptid-Keith: NO._

_Mattt: pidge_

_Hunk-a-saurus: Topic change! Why did you choose the name Unknown?_

_Cryptid-Keith: What is this, a job interview?_

_Cryptid-Keith: It was simple, that’s all._

_Mattt: whats ur fave thing about lance_

_Cryptid-Keith: Matt, really?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: NOBODY SAY ANYTHING I’M BACK!!_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Jeez, I can’t leave you guys alone for two minutes_

_pidge: what? we’re innocent._

_Hunk-a-saurus: No we’re not. Sorry, Lance_

_Mattt: i didnt even get an answr_

_pidge: too bad, your question sucked anyway._

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: You guys are embarrassing_

_Cryptid-Keith: Hey, they’re not so bad._

_pidge: thank you, Keith!_

_Cryptid-Keith: Most of the time._

_Hunk-a-saurus: Fair_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Agreed_

_Mattt: im leaving this chat_

_pidge: sayonara, sucker._

_Cryptid-Keith: Nice knowing you, Matt._

_Hunk-a-saurus: You will be missed_

_Mattt: im touched_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Later, dude_

_pidge: see you at home._

_Hunk-a-saurus: Drama club is almost over anyway, so we’re all going home soon_

_Cryptid-Keith: Fun crazy person bus time._

_Hunk-a-saurus: Mama’s giving me a ride home today, we can take you home if you want_

_Cryptid-Keith: I’m alright, but thanks._

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I’ll wait for the bus with you_

_Cryptid-Keith: Are you sure?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Yeah, of course :)_

_pidge: you guys are gross._

_pidge: I’m out._

_Hunk-a-saurus: I should go, too_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: But club isn’t over yet, and we’re not doing anything_

_Hunk-a-saurus: Yeah, but…_

_Hunk-a-saurus: I wouldn’t want to intrude_

_Cryptid-Keith: Hunk, why?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Real subtle, acere_

_Hunk-a-saurus: ;)_

_Hunk-a-saurus: Bye! See you guys soon_

_Cryptid-Keith: Jesus._

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: They really do mean well_

_Cryptid-Keith: Of course they do._

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Don’t be so emo, Cryptid Keith_

_Cryptid-Keith: I can’t believe I let you name me that_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Would you prefer Emo-Mullet-Kid-Rawr-XD-13?_

_Cryptid-Keith: Definitely not._

_Cryptid-Keith: I guess Cryptid-Keith isn’t so bad compared to that._

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: You’ll learn to love it_

_Cryptid-Keith: Yeah, yeah._

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Slow day at the library?_

_Cryptid-Keith: A little bit._

_Cryptid-Keith: What about drama club? Aren’t you normally pretty active during Allura’s classes?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: We’re doing a super rough run-through, so I don’t have much to do_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Next year, though, I’m going for the male lead_

_Cryptid-Keith: Do you even know what the play will be?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Nope_

_Cryptid-Keith: Ambitious._

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Maybe so, but it will be great_

_Cryptid-Keith: I have faith in that._

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Hey, wait for me in the library once you’re done_

_Cryptid-Keith: You’re sure you want to wait with me?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Keith, man, you’ve gotta stop doubting my motives_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: They’re completely selfish, trust me_

_Cryptid-Keith: Alright, I’ll wait for you._

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Okay, see you soon_

Sure enough, Lance shows up in the library doorway a few minutes after drama club lets out. Keith grabs his backpack from the ground by the desk and meets him halfway to the door.

“How was work?” Lance asks, turning back the way he came.

“It’s not a real job, you know,” Keith reminds him.

“Yeah, I know. Anything interesting happen?”

“Um…” Keith goes over the last hour in his head, coming up blank. “Not really, aside from the group chat. Are they always that talkative?”

“You have no idea,” Lance says, shaking his head fondly. “I mean, I know they love me, but the attention is gonna get to my head someday.”

“ _Someday?_ You mean it hasn’t already happened?” Keith jokes.

“Hey, I’m a very humble man!”

“No, of course you are.”

Lance snorts. “You can always mute us if you want.”

“And miss all your insanity? Never.”

They reach the doors leading out to the street, and Lance dashes ahead to hold it open for him. Keith rolls his eyes but can’t help but smile. How is Lotor _not_ head over heels for Lance? He’s so flirty and playful and chivalrous… Anyone with any sense would fall for him in a heartbeat, wouldn’t they?

“You’re so weird,” he says instead of voicing his thoughts aloud, because that would be a disaster.

“You love me,” Lance replies as the door swings closed behind him. “When does your bus come, anyway?”

“Oh, uh…” Keith glances at his phone and sighs. “Missed the four thirty-five, so four fifty. Are you sure you don’t need to get home?”

“I don’t have anywhere to be,” Lance promises. “And even if I did, I’d probably rather be here with you. So you can stop worrying.”

Keith frowns. Lance had said something about worrying earlier that’s been bothering him all day. “Hey,” he says hesitantly, wondering if he wants to know. “What did you mean earlier when you said I had nothing to worry about?”

“Huh?” Lance looks confused for a second. “Oh, when we were talking about Lotor? Don’t worry about it.”

“Stop telling me to not worry,” Keith complains. “That’s like all you’ve said to me today.”

“I’ve also said your hair looks nice,” Lance protests.

“No you haven’t.” Keith frowns. “When?”

“Shit, maybe I didn’t. Your hair looks nice. It’s always so fluffy and soft-looking.”

Keith’s frown deepens. “You really _are_ weird. What’s up with you today?”

“Nothing,” Lance says, far too innocently. “I’m just happy. We’re allowed to be happy every once in awhile, you know?”

“Yeah, I know, but still. What’s going on?”

“Nothing bad,” Lance promises, much to Keith’s confusion. “I’ve just been thinking a lot lately.”

“About Florona?” Keith asks, then bites his tongue. _Idiot_ , he thinks, _you’ve got to stop saying stuff like that_.

“Well, yeah,” Lance admits. “A lot about her. But also about myself. And Hunk, and Pidge, and Matt… and you.”

“Oh. _Oh_.” Keith stares at Lance uncertainly for a second. “No, wait, I’m still lost.”

“I’ve been so caught up with Unknown and Lotor and Flora and everything that I haven’t really been appreciating the people who were really there for me. I mean, I wasn’t really able to appreciate you as Unknown ‘cause I didn’t know, but that’s beside the point.”

“And what _is_ the point?”

“The point?” Lance pauses dramatically, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Come on,” Keith groans, pouting.

“Alright, alright. You know, a little drama never hurt anybody.”

“We literally just spent three weeks being hurt by drama.”

Lance sighs. “You’re no fun,” he complains jokingly.

“Lance! Just tell me what’s going on. The bus will be here soon, anyway.”

“Alright, I’ll be serious for a second,” Lance promises. “Like I said, I’ve been thinking a lot about my friends and family recently, and… it kind of just hit me all of a sudden--how important you are to me, I mean.”

Keith blinks a few times, eyes slowly widening. His face is heating up in what is unmistakably a blush, which hopefully isn’t as noticeable is it feels. He’s _important_ to Lance.

“You- I mean, you’re important, too. To me. You’re important to me,” Keith finishes lamely, his face reddening even more. Why’s he getting so flustered? It’s not like Lance is telling him he’s the _most_ important person in his life. Hunk, Pidge, Florona, Lance’s family; those are the people who really matter to him. And Keith wouldn’t dare ask for more than that, anyway.

“No, I mean, I always thought you were cool and stuff, and I had a lot of fun whenever you hung out with Pidge and Hunk and me, but I didn’t really think about how much I like you until now.”

If Keith thought he was flustered before, it’s nothing in comparison to now. Surely Lance can’t mean that he _likes_ Keith in the same way that he likes Lance. He’s overthinking things, just hearing what he wants to. There’s no way that Lance is looking at him like that because he just _confessed_.

But..

“What do you mean?” Keith asks, hesitant again. Lance’s smile falters a little with doubt.

“I know it’s kind of soon, especially because of Lotor and the Princes- and his friends, I mean. But there’s something about being with you that just feels… I don’t know. _Right_. So, uh, would you want to go out sometime?” Lance asks, nervous but hopeful. “I heard Sal’s is a popular date scene.”

And just like that, Keith’s mind goes blank. “W- What?” he manages, too shocked to scream _Yes!_ and start doing cartwheels or jumping for joy or whatever he’s supposed to be doing. Lance looks slightly concerned.

“I didn’t misread the situation, did I? I mean, I thought you liked me…”

Keith balks. “No! I mean, how did you know?!” he asks in a panic. “Did someone tell you? Pidge?”

“I kind of figured it out on my own,” Lance explains. “I mean, I was only a little suspicious at first… I thought I was just overthinking things between us. But after I found out that you were Unknown, I reread that conversation we had a week or two ago. You told me you had a crush on one of your new friends, remember?”

“I… Fuck, you’re right.” Keith shakes his head in embarrassment, letting his hair fall in front of his face. With everything that happened between the egg drop and now, he’d completely forgotten.“How did you know I was talking about you?” he asks hesitantly.

“I put the pieces together. I mean, it’s not like Unknown was messaging Hunk and Matt behind my back, right?” Lance jokes. “Lucky for you, it got me thinking about how cute it was that you were nervous to talk to me, and… Well, I really like you, Keith. So, what do you think? Wanna go on a date?”

Keith stares. Lance fidgets uncomfortably, shifting from foot to foot, and he’s suddenly reminded of the first time they’d had an actual conversation in the library after school. They’d both been nervous messes, but he’d managed to pull himself together for long enough to make things a little better.

 _Now I need to do the same_ , he thinks, heart beating quickly in his chest.

“I, uh… I’d like that a lot,” Keith admits quietly. Lance’s nervous smile turns into a genuinely happy grin, and Keith smiles along.

“That’s awesome,” he says. “And we don’t even really have to go to Sal’s. That was just a joke. I guess I joke when I’m nervous, huh?”

“You didn’t have to be, though,” Keith says. “I’ve kind of liked you for a long time. I was just in denial about it until a week ago.”

“You repressed emo nerd,” Lance says fondly. “Of course you’d do something like that.”

Keith wants to protest, but the sound of the bus pulling up to the curb distracts him. “I guess I should go,” he says, reaching for his bus pass even though he’d much rather stay with Lance.

“Yeah, of course,” Lance agrees. “Just one thing.”

He takes Keith’s hand and pulls him closer gently, pressing his lips to Keith’s in a surprise kiss. Keith’s eyes widen for a second in surprise before he leans closer, standing up on his toes to get a better angle (although he’ll never admit it). Kissing Lance for the second time might even be better than the first, he thinks, before the bus driver honks impatiently and he reluctantly pulls away.

“I’ll see you,” he promises, climbing onto the bus.

“Bye, Keith,” Lance calls softly, waving. Keith waves back, then turns his attention to the bus driver, who looks more amused than anything else.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, flashing his pass before taking his normal seat. He watches Lance through the window with a soft smile that he couldn’t get rid of if he tried.

His phone vibrates in his pocket a few blocks later, pulling him out of his trance. Keith glances at the screen and smiles even bigger--so big it kind of hurts his cheeks. There’s one new message from Lance on the screen.

_4:55 pm_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Thank you… for everything._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter to go! Just a quick reminder that a few storylines will be left open-ended and picked up throughout various oneshots and timestamps in the Unknown series. I know that's frustrating, but it was the best option since Unknown felt like it was coming to a close and I was running out of time to finish anyway. Also, a big thanks to my friend Wombat for helping me come up with the username Cryptid-Keith!  
> Next chapter I will respond to comments! (Next update: 12/12/17)  
> [Pepple's Artwork for Chapter 12](http://pepplemint.tumblr.com/post/170237764370/so-a-billion-years-later-i-come-bearing-more-art)!


	14. Lance - Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue & teaser for future fics in the Unknown series.

“You’ll be okay in there?”

Lance doesn’t answer immediately. To tell the truth, he’s not sure. It’s been a little while since he and Pilar talked, and since then he’s spoken on the phone with Florona three times, but seeing her in person is… it’s not the same. What if she doesn’t even recognize him? What if she’s changed? What if he freaks out again and has to start from the beginning?

“I’ll be right there with you,” Pilar promises, squeezing his left hand reassuringly. On his right side, Keith hovers uncertainly.

“Don’t worry,” Lance says, slipping his hand out of Pilar’s so he can cup Keith’s face. “It’ll be alright. I’ll be back in a little bit, okay?”

“Okay,” Keith agrees, still sounding unsure. He’s been a little on edge since Lance and Pilar picked him up earlier, but he’s been doing his best to make Lance feel better, regardless.

“I’ll take care of him for you,” Pilar promises Keith with a wink. “C’mon _acere_ , she’s waiting for us.”

“Good luck,” Hunk says, patting Lance on the back as he walks by. “We’ll be here when you get back.”

“Say hi for us, though!” Pidge adds.

“I will,” Lance agrees, smiling through his nerves. And then he’s stepping through the door, into a soft mint-colored room with a huge window, a plain white bed, and a medium-sized desk. And there’s Flora, sitting at the window and smiling at him like he’s her favorite person in the world.

“Lance!” she cries, rushing over and pulling him into a hug. “You’re here!”

“You’re pink!” Lance exclaims in response. It’s not exactly what he’d planned to say, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind. “When did that happen?”

Florona pulls back and runs her hand through a lock of soft pink hair. “One of the nurses helped me do it a few weeks ago,” she explains happily. “Do you like it?”

“It’s awesome,” Lance says. _A lot better than that unnatural black from her rebel phase last year_ , his brain supplies. “I didn’t know they’d let you do stuff like that here.”

“It’s not a _prison_ , Lance,” Florona says jokingly. “But enough about that already. You have to tell me _everything_. I haven’t seen you in forever! Come on, sit down.”

Lance shoots a glance at Pilar, who gestures to herself, then the door. He hesitates for a second, then nods decisively.

“So, how are Hunk and Pidge?” Flora asks as Pilar slips away. She’d asked the same question the last few times they’d talked, but Lance had never known what to say. This time he’s prepared.

“They’re good,” he says, taking a seat on the other side of the bay window. “Hunk won the egg drop again, and now Pidge is even more intent on beating him next year.”

“That sounds like them,” Flora agrees with a laugh. “What about you? Is everything going okay?”

“Um… Yeah,” Lance says after a second. “I mean, it was a little hard for a while, but everything worked itself out.”

“Tell me about it,” Flora prompts imploringly, propping her chin on her fist and leaning forward.

“Well, you know how I used to be super into Lotor?” Lance starts. “A lot of the school kind of found out and made fun of me and stuff.”

“That sounds like the Garrison,” Flora sighs, shaking her head. “I’m so sorry. Did you get through it okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Lance assures her. “And it doesn’t even matter anymore.”

“Wait, what do you mean?” Flora asks, confused. “Did they stop? Did Iverson finally do something good for once and expel them?”

“No,” Lance sighs, rolling his eyes. “He suspended Rolo for a little while, though. But I don’t care what they say about me and Lotor anymore.”

“Are you over him?” Flora asks, leaning forward again.

“Uh, yeah…” Lance admits sheepishly. “I’m over him.”

“How did it happen? He didn’t call you out, did he?”

“No, nothing like that,” Lance says, scratching his head. “He’s actually pretty cool once you get past all the weird behaviour. Something just changed, I guess.”

“Is there _someone else_?” Flora whispers, intrigued. “Jeez, I feel like I missed all the interesting stuff. You _have_ to tell me if there is, okay?”

“There’s… There’s this boy,” Lance says. “Keith. He’s um, my boyfriend, I think?”

“You have a _boyfriend_ now?!” Flora exclaims. “For how long? How did it happen?”

“I’m getting to that!” Lance protests. “We met after the whole Lotor thing started and everyone was teasing me and stuff. He kind of used the messenger to anonymously ask me if I was okay.”

“Uh, he what?” Flora asks, frowning. “Like a stalker?”

“He’s not a stalker,” Lance says defensively. “Besides, he only stayed anonymous ‘cause I was an idiot and said the same thing, and he overheard me and got scared. But he helped me through a lot. He’s kind of the reason I’m here.”

“That _is_ kind of cute, I guess,” Florona agrees. “Yeah, I changed my mind. That’s really sweet.”

“Keith is sweet,” Lance says. “He acts all tough, but he’s secretly really sensitive. And he’s _so_ cute, Flora, you have no idea. He’s got a _mullet_ and he’s still cute.”

“Impossible.”

“No, it’s true! Look.” Lance pulls out his phone and opens his album, choosing a picture he took on their first date. Keith is looking up at him, surprised, with a piece of pizza part way up to his mouth. The light from the window reflects off his eyes and makes the shadows from his eyelashes a lot longer.

“Wow,” Flora says, impressed. “Good catch.”

“He’s here now,” Lance says. “So are Pidge and Hunk. If you’re feeling up to it, we could go visit them.”

“Really?” Flora glances towards the door, then back at Lance. “Maybe we can go see them in a little bit. There are a few community rooms that would probably fit us all in better.”

“They’ve got community rooms here?” Lance asks. He’s always thought of Third Sea as some sort of cold, somber hospital, instead of the cheery recovery center he’s sitting in.

“It’s not so bad,” Flora agrees, as if she can read his mind. “They let me wear my own clothes, and the visiting hours are really flexible. And the people are really nice to me, too. But going home will be even nicer after all this time.”

Lance nods sympathetically. Flora’s been in youth rehab for almost a year, not including the initial hospital visit. “How’s your recovery been?” he asks, somewhat hesitantly. Flora’s smile drops a little.

“Hard,” she admits. “I don’t know how much Pilar told you, but the first few months were pretty bad. I wouldn’t eat anything they gave me, so they had to put me in the medical section until some therapists could get through to me.”

Lance frowns. Pilar hadn’t mentioned anything about anorexia, but then again, he probably wouldn’t have wanted to know.

“If I’d just done what they’d told me, I’d probably have been out of here by now,” Florona admits sheepishly. “I mean, I was pretty stubborn when I got in. I even helped someone sneak in some cigarettes once, even though I was over them.”

“Jeez,” Lance says. “But you’re all better now?”

“Not depressed anymore,” Flora says. “Or an addict. I don’t know if I’ll be exactly the same when I get out, but I’ll be alright.”

“Good.” Lance shivers, thinking about his friend lying in a hospital bed, refusing to eat, staring straight ahead silently.

“Hey,” Florona says, sounding more serious now. “I’m sorry that you had to find me like that last year. I was actually getting ready to come apologize to you, but then some jerks started giving me a hard time, and I’d thought you’d already left, and I was feeling bad… It was stupid, but I wanted to do it to get back at Michael. I thought if he heard I’d killed myself, he might feel guilty, and I wanted that. I wasn’t thinking.”

“It _was_ pretty stupid,” Lance agrees. “But honestly, I’m just glad you’re still here. I don’t know what I would have done if you’d died.”

Flora smiles softly, and he can’t help but smile back. “I’m glad I’m here, too,” she says. “Now, should we go see the others? I want to meet this boyfriend of yours.”

“If you embarrass me in front of him, I’ll never speak to you again,” Lance threatens, hoping his joke doesn’t hit too close to home. Luckily, Flora laughs.

“I’ll be sure to say only good things,” she promises, standing and offering Lance her hand. “Are they expecting us so soon?”

“Actually, they didn’t think they were gonna see you today,” Lance says. “So it’ll kind of be a surprise.”

“Oh good, I love surprises.”

Lance hesitates at the door, hand hovering over the handle. They’ve only been reunited for a few minutes, he thinks. Fifteen at most. What if he doesn’t get to see her again until she’s released? What if she’s too busy with school to talk to him? Suddenly, he’s nervous about losing her again.

“Is something wrong?” Florona asks, touching his shoulder gently. Lance shakes his head.

“We’ll, uh, have more time to catch up later, right? Just the two of us?” he asks.

“Of course,” Flora says, smiling. “You can come over on your own whenever, and once I’m out we’ll be able to see each other all the time. I want to hear more about Lotor and your boyfriend and everything.”

“But won’t you be busy catching up with everyone else? What if there’s not enough time?”

“Lance,” Flora says. “I promise, I will _never_ be too busy for you. Ever. No matter what happens, I’ll always make time for my friends, okay?”

“Okay. And… Maybe if you’re not busy, you could come to our school play, too?” Lance offers. “Hunk and I are in it, and Keith’s helping out behind the scenes, and Mami and Papi and Vi are gonna be there. It’s not for a few weeks, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

“I literally wouldn’t miss it if my life depended on it,” Flora says, ruffling his hair affectionately. “Now come on, I miss Hunkysaur and Pidgeon. And I wanna meet your boyfriend!”

Lance nods, grinning, before throwing the door open. Keith looks up, surprised, then takes a few steps forward. “Lance! Is everything okay?”

Lance meets him in a few quick strides, pulling him into a tight hug. “Everything’s great,” he says, feeling himself relax against Keith.

“Florona!” Hunk exclaims, rushing past them. “Your hair!”

“Hunky! Pidge!”

“That’s Flora,” Lance explains, pulling away. “She wanted to meet you.”

“Me? But I…” Keith looks around, lost.

“I told her about Unknown.”

“ _What?!_ ” Keith hisses. Lance laughs, shaking his head playfully.

“Don’t worry, she thought it was sweet. We’re not _all_ as suspicious of you as Hunk was at first, you know.”

“What about me?” Hunk asks, popping up between them. Flora and Pidge hover a few feet behind him.

“We’re talking about you scaring Keith away with your mean bully talk, you jerk,” Lance teases.

“No, we weren’t,” Keith amends quickly, elbowing Lance in the side.

“So _you’re_ Keith,” Flora says appraisingly. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Oh, uh, it’s nice to meet you too,” Keith replies, awkwardly shifting closer to Lance. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“All good things, I hope.” Flora smirks at Lance, who rolls his eyes. It feels natural, just like it had last year, except Keith’s here now. He’s glad that they’re not estranged anymore, that they’ve all come back together so easily and everything is falling back into place. Sure, they’ve all got a lot to catch up on, but he’s more than convinced that there will be time for that later. Right now, he just wants to relax and have a good time with his friends.

“All good things,” he agrees.

“Well good. First impressions are important, especially with new members of the family.”

“Is she joking?” Keith whispers, looking uncertain.

“Flora, stop teasing him,” Lance says with a frown, dodging the question. He and Keith obviously aren’t that serious yet, but he has a good feeling about their relationship.

“Alright, alright,” Flora relents. “There will be plenty of time for all that later. For now, do you guys want to go get some lunch? The food here’s really not so bad, and I’m guessing you haven’t eaten yet.”

“We haven’t,” Pilar confirms, “and I’m starving. You’re sure it’s okay if we eat here?”

“Definitely,” Flora says.

“You hungry?” Lance asks Keith, who’s looking around and fidgeting.

“Yeah,” he replies bluntly, tapping his foot. He looks on edge.

Lance frowns. “Is something wrong?” he asks gently, taking Keith’s hand and twining their fingers together. Maybe meeting Florona so early hadn’t been such a good idea.

“It’s nothing,” Keith says, squeezing his hand and leaning closer. “I’m just a little restless.”

“So, we’re all agreed on lunch?” Pidge asks, looking around at each of them and making a face when she sees their hands.

“The cafeteria’s just past the hospital wing,” Florona says, already heading in the direction of the hall. “Come on, Pilar, tell me what’s going on with you.”

The six of them fall into step, Lance and Keith in the back, with Pidge, Hunk, Pilar, and Flora in pairs of two in front of them. As they near the hospital wing, the smell of rubbing alcohol gets stronger, and Lance can hear a few repetitive beeps coming from different directions. Keith’s grip on his hand tightens again, but this time it doesn’t relax afterwards. Lance glances over and sees him ducking down, shoulders hunched.

“Are you sure you’re doing okay?” he asks, worried. Keith has never acted like this around him before, and it’s kind of scary.

“I don’t like hospitals,” Keith admits through gritted teeth. Lance doesn’t bother to point out that the hospital wing isn’t the same as a real hospital; anything that has Keith acting _this_ weird probably isn’t something to joke about.

“You wanna get out of here?” he offers. Keith just shakes his head.

Less than a minute later, they arrive at the cafeteria. Florona chooses a small table in the corner opposite the hallway they came from, instructing Lance to grab her a fruit parfait and a seaweed salad. The rest of them grab their food and head back to the table, but Lance and Keith linger.

“Are you sure you’re okay to stay for lunch?” Lance asks, concerned.

“Yeah… I’m good, I promise,” Keith replies, shifting self-consciously. “I just don’t feel comfortable around hospitals. They kind of freak me out, I guess.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Lance offers. He’s seen the look that was on Keith’s face before--he’s felt like that before.

“Later, okay?” Keith glances over at the table, then back to Lance. “I don’t want to ruin this for you. I’m fine, I promise.”

Lance appraises Keith quickly. He _does_ look a lot better, even if he isn’t quite back to normal yet.

“Later,” he agrees, then leans in to kiss Keith quickly. “Come on,” he says, pulling back. “I’m hungry.”

* * *

_1:37 pm_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I’m so glad that went well_

_Hunk-a-saurus: Were you nervous?_

_Hunk-a-saurus: I was nervous for you_

_pidge: Hunk!_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: It was weirdly normal_

_Hunk-a-saurus: I think so too_

_pidge: Flora seems a lot better._

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: She’s getting released soon!_

_Hunk-a-saurus: What was up with Keith, though?_

_Hunk-a-saurus: Did anyone else see him acting weird?_

Lance doesn’t respond right away. He debates bringing Keith into the chat temporarily, but this group chat has always been between Pidge, Hunk, and him, and it feels wrong to change it now.

Still, he and Keith hadn’t gotten a chance to talk after the visit, and he doesn’t know when they will. He wonders if he should keep his mouth shut for Keith, but he and his friends have always told eachother everything, and it’s not like he knows much to begin with.

_1:40 pm_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: He’s afraid of hospitals for some reason_

_pidge: Keith’s afraid of something?_

_pidge: besides rejection, I mean._

_Hunk-a-saurus: Pidge, bad joke_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: He said they make him nervous_

_Hunk-a-saurus: I mean, that’s understandable_

_pidge: but it’s Keith._

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Maybe he spent some time in a hospital or something?_

_Hunk-a-saurus: That doesn’t seem like a good reason for him to be afraid of them, though_

_pidge: I’m sure he’ll tell us eventually._

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: You’re probably right_

_Hunk-a-saurus: Anyway, I’m excited for Flora to be released_

_Hunk-a-saurus: Does she have to repeat a year of school?_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: She said the nurses have been helping her keep up, so if she takes summer school she probably won’t have to_

_pidge: I wish I could skip a year of school._

_Hunk-a-saurus: Pidge, you DID skip a year of school_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Yeah!_

_pidge: I know, I know._

_Hunk-a-saurus: Oh, I have to go_

_Hunk-a-saurus: Mom and Mama are taking me out to dinner to make up for the fights_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Good luck, dude_

_pidge: see you!_

* * *

_12:13 pm_

_Mattt: guess who finished the secret project!_

_pidge: what, no weird code speak this time?_

_Mattt: oops i 4got_

_Mattt: im just 2 xited_

_Hunk-a-saurus: Well tell us then!_

_Mattt: id rathr show u_

_Mattt: this aftrnoon at 3 ok_

_Cryptid-Keith: This afternoon where?_

_Mattt: my house_

_Cryptid-Keith: I’ve never been before._

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I’ll pick you up if you want, babe_

_pidge: you guys can stop being gross now_

_Cryptid-Keith: <3 _

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: ;)_

_Hunk-a-saurus: Give up, Pidge_

_Hunk-a-saurus: They have us beat_

_Mattt: im kikng both of u out of the chat_

_pidge: I’ll help._

_Hunk-a-saurus: I think its sweet_

_Mattt: okok but im so xited_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: Then why make us wait?_

_Mattt: gotta get ready_

_Mattt: pidge come help when ur done w whatever_

_pidge: fiiiiine._

_Cryptid-Keith: Just how big is this project?_

_Mattt: itll blow ur mind_

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: We’ve got big expectations now_

_Hunk-a-saurus: Yeah, you’d better deliver_

_Mattt: get ready!_

_Mattt: im gona get ready_

_Hunk-a-saurus: Can’t wait!_

_pidge: there’s a thirty eight percent chance we’ll all die._

_Cryptid-Keith: Is it that bad?_

_pidge: he was using the welder last night._

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: You don’t know anything else about it?_

_pidge: I don’t exactly go rooting around in his room, you know_

_Hunk-a-saurus: Come on guys, have some faith in Matt_

_Hunk-a-saurus: He wouldn’t expose us to something dangerous_

_Hunk-a-saurus: Probably_

_pidge: still._

_Cryptid-Keith: I agree with Hunk._

_Cryptid-Keith: Matt is trustworthy most of the time._

_Dancing-Bi-Myself: I guess we’ll just have to wait and see._

* * *

At two thirty, Lance shows up at the address Keith messaged him. He’s in a nice collared shirt and his best jeans, because Flora was right; first impressions _are_ important, especially with people’s parents. He knocks three times and waits nervously until a familiar face opens the door.

“Oh, hey,” Acxa says, leaning against the doorframe. “Lance, right? Keith’s been waiting for you.”

“Hi,” Lance says with a small, awkward wave. Acxa steps to the side and opens the door wider, motioning for him to come in.

“He’s in his room. Right up the stairs and to the left.” Acxa points towards a carpeted staircase. “Have fun.”

“Thanks.” Lance heads up the stairs, wondering when Acxa stopped being so intimidating. He reaches the top and turns towards the door, hearing quiet music playing on the other side.

“Hey, it’s me,” he calls, knocking a few times.

“Oh, hold on a second.” Muffled sounds come from inside Keith’s room, and a few seconds later, the door swings open. “Hey,” Keith says, grinning at him. “Sorry, I’m almost ready.”

“We can afford to be a little late,” Lance replies, stepping inside. Keith’s room is filled with posters of space, old action movies, and even a few bands Lance has never heard of. It’s clean, but not meticulously so; two hoodies hang off the closet doorknob, and there’s a stack of books balanced precariously on the desk. It’s nice, Lance decides.

Keith looks pretty nice, too, even though he’s not any different. He’s awkwardly jamming his feet into a pair of old sneakers and pulling yet another hoodie over a red flannel at the same time. “So, what do you think Matt’s gonna do to us?” he asks, catching Lance’s eye.

“I mean, I want to make another joke about something going terribly wrong, but…” Lance shrugs, thinking back on Matt’s previous projects. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s done something amazing, to be honest.”

“You’ve got a lot of faith in him?” Keith asks, picking up his phone to check the time. Lance notices, with great satisfaction, that the red phone case from the party has made a reappearance.

“I have faith in all my friends. Including you, even though we’re- you know.” Lance makes a few awkward gestures with his hands. “Boyfriends?” he tries hesitantly.

Keith almost drops his phone, eyes going comically wide. He looks surprised, which is kind of making Lance nervous. He’s starting to worry that it’s too soon to have the “what are we?” talk, wondering if he can take it back or pretend it was a joke, but then Keith’s face lights up with a slanted smile.

“Well, that does still have ‘friends’ in it,” he agrees, shoving his phone in his pocket distractedly. “And I _guess_ I can live with the first part.”

“Excuse me, it’s an _honor_ to be my boyfriend,” Lance says, pouting despite his heart thumping erratically in his chest. Keith is officially his _boyfriend_. A month ago, he never would have imagined feeling such strong, _romantic_ feelings for a boy he’d only met a couple weeks earlier--sure, he’d always thought of Keith as cute, but he’d been so convinced that Lotor was the only one for him that he hadn’t been able to see past that. But now that he knows Keith likes him, now that they’re together and all, it feels like he’s finally aware of every wonderful thing about him.

Like the way the early afternoon sunlight streaming through the window illuminates the dust in the room, creating a warm, fuzzy halo around Keith’s head, and how his eyes are constantly changing color ever so slightly. He gets caught up in watching Keith finish getting ready, until he realizes they’re going to be really late.

“Are you ready to go?” he asks, holding out his hand. Keith looks around hesitantly, even though they’re the only two in the room, then reaches out and intertwines their fingers.

“Matt is gonna kill us if we make him wait any longer,” he says, leading Lance out the door. “Or he’ll go crazy and attack Hunk, and we’ll have that weighing on our conscience for the rest of our lives.”

“Yeah, ‘cause _that’s_ the first place normal people’s minds go when they’re running late,” Lance teases.

The walk from Lance’s house to Pidge and Matt’s place usually isn’t too bad, but it’s hot out today and they’re already behind on time, so he and Keith take the bus. They don’t talk much, except for the few times Lance teases Keith about having a favorite seat on the bus, because _really_? But the rest of the ride goes quickly, and soon they find themselves standing in front of the Gunderson-Holts’ door, waiting for someone to answer.

They don’t have to wait long, because two seconds after Keith knocks, Matt is throwing open the door and dragging them both inside. “I can’t _believe_ you two made me wait longer! I’ve been dying to show this off all day, and you can’t even be bothered to show up on time? That’s just plain disrespectful!”

“Ignore him,” Pidge says, rolling her eyes fondly. “He’s just happy to have you here.”

“Can we finally see it?” Hunk asks, clapping his hands together like an excited child. Matt grins.

“Right this way,” he says, opening the door to his room and ushering them inside. Lance looks around expectantly, noticing a pile of blankets in the middle of the floor and more covering the windows, but when no huge sentient robot reveals itself, he turns back to Matt. Pidge, Hunk, and Keith look confused as well.

“When we were blocking the windows, I assumed it was to protect the eyes of possible witnesses,” Pidge half-jokes. “What is it, Matt?”

“It’s this!” Matt says, pointing to a small half-sphere that looks more like the aperture of a camera than a genius scientific contraption.

“A snow globe?” Hunk asks skeptically, squinting at the sphere like it holds the key to the secrets of the universe. Matt sighs longsufferingly.

“It’s not a _snow globe_ , it’s an astronomical projector!” he explains, picking the little globe up. “Keith, hit the lights.”

Still looking as confused as Lance feels, Keith reaches over and switches off the lights. They wait in silence for a few seconds, before a quiet whirring sound fills the room, followed by thousands upon thousands of glowing blue-white dots lighting up every surface. “Woah,” Lance whispers, staring in amazement. The dots glow brighter and look bigger in some places, just like actual stars. It’s seriously impressive.

“Matt,” Pidge whispers, like she might startle the lights back into nothingness. “Are these actual star patterns?”

Lance turns back to Matt, who’s grinning proudly at his sister. “I designed a program that tracks the stars overhead based on the location of my phone,” he explains, flashing a dimly lit screen at them. “I can change the colors and modes from the phone application, too, in case we want to look at planets or comets or something. It downloads data straight from real astronomers’ websites, so it’s super accurate.”

“And you did all this _yourself_?” Hunk asks incredulously, turning in a slow circle to watch the projections. “Why hasn’t NASA hired you yet?”

“You didn’t mention being into astronomy when we went out stargazing,” Keith says. “Why not?”

“I mean, it’s not my biggest passion or anything,” Matt says. “I love engineering and building stuff, but I also really want to explore space someday. Find unknown planets and name them after myself, you know? And astronomy is an important part of that, so I thought this could be a good way to learn more about it.”

“That’s so cool!” Pidge exclaims, staring at Matt with a look of admiration. “I can’t believe you built something like this!”

“And you all thought I was going to kill you,” Matt says fondly, rolling his eyes.

“We were _kidding_!” Lance protests. “I told Keith that I had faith in you before we left.”

“I never doubted you, either,” Keith points out.

“I know, I know, you guys love me. Come on, I set everything up for us to stargaze.” Matt drops down to the floor, spreading his legs out on the blankets.

“Does it really count as stargazing if we’re inside and it’s daytime?” Hunk asks, sitting down despite Matt’s flawed logic. Lance follows suit, leaning onto Keith and staring up at the ceiling. A couple of stars glow brightly above them, and for the first time Lance notices the moon lighting up the projected sky in the corner of the room.

“Another shooting star!” Hunk exclaims, pointing to a different part of the room.

“Make a wish!” Matt adds.

“I thought you didn’t believe in wishes,” Lance points out, turning towards Matt as the shooting star disappears.

“It never hurts to try,” Matt replies, still staring up at the projections.

Lance closes his eyes for a second and tries to think of something to wish for. Now that he and Flora are back on track and he knows who Unknown is, he can use his wish for whatever he wants.

But there’s nothing left to wish for. He has everything he wants, everything he needs.

“I don’t know what to wish for,” Keith whispers, echoing his thoughts.

“What about a pony?” Pidge suggests. “Or a full ride scholarship to Yale?”

“Is that what you wished for?” Hunk asks.

“I’m not telling you what I wished for this time,” Pidge replies. “There’s a better chance it will come true if I keep it a secret, right?”

“I don’t know about that,” Matt says. “Come on, guys, you’ve all got to make wishes. Otherwise we’ll all be cursed for a billion years or whatever.”

“That’s not a thing,” Keith protests.

“It is now,” Matt replies. “Come on, what are the chances that a shooting star passes overhead the first time I show you my projector? It was meant to be.”

“But-” Lance starts, but Matt shoots him a glare.

“Just wish for an apple or something,” he says, surprisingly serious. _This must mean a lot to him_ , Lance realizes.

He closes his eyes again, taking a second to think before he finally makes his wish. He wishes that he’ll always be this happy, no matter if he and Keith fight, or if Flora and Pilar move away for college, or if Rolo comes back twice as angry as he was before. He wants this moment saved in his memory forever, he wants to feel like this for the rest of his life.

Satisfied with his wish, he takes a few seconds before opening his eyes and looking around. Pidge and Hunk are arguing about stargazing and Matt is playing with the settings on his projector, which is now in the middle of the blanket pile. Keith’s hair is brushing against Lance’s neck, their hands joined loosely.

“This is nice,” Keith whispers, slipping his hand into Lance’s again. Lance has to agree; it _is_ nice. Being with his friends and his boyfriend, passing time under the stars, in their own little world where nobody can hurt them or expose them or manipulate them.

“Aren’t you glad you decided to become Unknown?” he teases. Keith huffs indignantly, rolling his eyes.

“I don’t know about _glad_ ,” he says. “We’d probably have been better off if I’d just said hello one day.”

“You think?” Lance scratches his head. “I mean, I think Unknown was an important step for all of us. Without him, I’d still be into Lotor, and you’d still be in denial about liking me-”

“I wasn’t in denial!” Keith protests, turning towards Lance.

“And I don’t think we’d be as close, you know? I’m sure we’d still find a way to be friends, but something tells me we might not have ended up together.”

“Maybe.” Keith leans into Lance more, staring up at the ceiling again. “I guess we’ll never know.”

“It doesn’t really matter, anyway. Everything worked out in the end, and I’m glad it did.” Lance turns his head so he can kiss Keith’s cheek. “I’m really glad,” he murmurs, more quietly.

Nobody says anything for a while, having settled into a contented silence. Even though it’s barely evening, Lance almost finds himself growing tired. He’s comfortable--more so than he has been in weeks, it feels like. There’s something comforting about the quiet, dark room; Keith’s hand in his; Pidge, Matt, and Hunk lying nearby.

 _Everything’s good_ , he thinks. _I can start moving forward again. Everything’s good._

He says a silent thank you to Unknown, and with that, lets him go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end! I hope you enjoyed. Before I get to the thanks, I just want to quickly remind everyone that Unknown will continue as a series and expand on topics like Keith's mom, Florona and Lance's relationship, Hunk's parents, etc. So feel free to bookmark or subscribe if you'd like!
> 
> Special thanks to:  
> The wonderful [pepplemint](http://pepplemint.tumblr.com/) who created some amazing artwork for Unknown as my partner in the Klance Big Bang 2017;  
> My amazing beta [Blipspan](https://blipspan.tumblr.com/) who I met through the same event;  
> My lovely friend Taesha who read every chapter of Unknown the day it came out despite never having watched VLD in her life;  
> Wonderful readers and commenters such as yourself, felix, HiHereAmI, Cam_08, Boop, charlottezf, WhiteVixen, and amysticdragonsthings;  
> [This Cuban Lance resource blog](https://lanceiscuban.tumblr.com/) which I highly recommend checking out if you are a VLD writer yourself. (Also, [this post](https://daddyroboarm.tumblr.com/FAQ) which explains why I use Fuentes, Yeun, and Suega instead of McClain, Kogane, and Garrett--although it mostly focuses on Lance.);  
> [This post](http://667-darkavenue.tumblr.com/post/158462827766/my-pals-on-the-lancecord-asked-me-for-some-tips-on) about flawlessly integrating Cuban culture and Spanish into VLD fics. A very helpful and interesting read!  
> And finally, to everyone who's shown support for Unknown--from those who've been here since the first chapter to people who just found Unknown as it finished. Your support means the world to me and you've helped take Unknown to places I never would have dreamed of. Thank you... for everything.

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr](http://djbunn3.tumblr.com)  
> [Pepple's Tumblr](http://pepplemint.tumblr.com)  
>  Kudos and comments are always appreciated :)  
> Artwork: [1](http://pepplemint.tumblr.com/post/167096665380/so-the-projects-for-klancebb2017-is-finally) | [2 & 3](http://pepplemint.tumblr.com/post/167420630995/as-usual-i-am-late-but-the-next-two-chapters-of) | [4 & 5](http://pepplemint.tumblr.com/post/167780854935/oops-i-was-way-late-again-chapter-3-4-for-the) | [6 & 7](http://pepplemint.tumblr.com/post/167780883895/chapter-5-6-of-unknown-the-fic-i-got-to-work-on) | [8, 11, & 12](http://pepplemint.tumblr.com/post/170237764370/so-a-billion-years-later-i-come-bearing-more-art)  
> Read in Russian [here](https://ficbook.net/readfic/6219421)!  
> 


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